J2^i 




Josephine, Empress of the French. 



JOSEPHINE 



EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH 



FREDERICK A. OBER 

AUTHOR OF "CAMPS IN THE CARIBBEES," "TRAVELS IN MEXICO,' 
" IN THE WAKE OF COLUMBUS," ETC., ETC. 



" Je gagiie des batailles ; Josephine me gagne les cceurs." — Bonaparte. 



ILLUSTRATED 







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H'bO^i^ 



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67 Fifth Avkstue 
THE MERRIAM COMPANY 

NEW YORK 



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Copyright, 1895, 

BY 

FREDERICK A. OBER. 



A U Rights Reserved. 



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CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER PAGB 

I. Island of Martinique 1 

11. Her first Decade 9 

III. The Great Hurricane 17 

IV. The Carib Prophetess 25 

V. At Diamond Eock 33 

VI. La Belle Creole 44 

VII. The Picnic at the Carbet Peaks 55 

VIII. First Loves of Josephine 66 

IX. The Voyage to France 77 

X. The Bride of Beauharnais 87 

XL Martinique Kevisited 99 

XII. A Loyal Son of France 113 

XIIL Terror the Order of the Day 130 

XIV. In the Shadow of Death 144 

XV. Madame Tallien and the Directory 156 

XVI. General Bonaparte 167 

XVII. Marriage of Josephine and Napoleon 184 

XVIII. The Italian Campaign 202 

XIX. The Little House, Rue Chantereine. 217 

XX. Napoleon's Love-Letters 234 



iV CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XXI. Bonaparte in Egypt 249 

XXII. The Consulate 270 

XXIII. Tour Majesty 297 

XXiy. Austerlitz to Wagram 325 

XXV. Portents of Disaster 343 

XXV. Divorce 360 

XXVII. Navarre and Malmaison 384 

XXVIII. Elba 9,nd Fontainebleau . . 395 

XXIX. Death of Josephine 408 

XXX. In Ketrospect 420 

Appendix 435 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Josephine, Empress of the French Frontispiece. 



FACINO PAGE. 



Map of the Caribbean Sea. 2 

Map of the Island of Martinique 8 

Birthplace of Josephine 10 

The Sucrerie 22 

Diamond Rock 40 

The Ancienne Cuisine 54 

Eivi^re Madame, Fort de France 74 

A Waterfall near Josephine's Birthplace 96 

Statue of Josephine, Fort de France 110 

The Traveler's Tree and Shrine 114 

Bonaparte, First Consul 168 

Eugenie Desiree Clary 200 

Josephine in 1796 • 250 

Napoleon at Malmai3on 300 

Little Church at Trois Ilets 350 

Josephine, by Prud'hon 400 

Marriage Register of Josephine's Parents 434 



JOSEPHINE 



CHAPTEE I. 

ISLAND OF MAETINIQUE. 

A TROPICAL morning of the year 1762. 

As the sun rose from the Atlantic, he found a 
green and rugged island interposed between him- 
self and the Caribbean Sea : a chain of wrinkled 
hills, with summits wreathed in vapory clouds. 
This verdant mountain-mass was Martinique, one of 
the fairest of those many isles that lie, crescent-like, 
between the ocean of storms and sea of calms. 

One day far distant, in the age of fire, it had been 
upheaved from slimy ocean- depths ; its primal rocks 
for centuries had been beaten upon by tropic sun, 
and washed in torrential rains ; slowly, during eons 
of time it had gathered the garment of verdure 
now enwrapping it. Heat and moisture, the great 
alchemists, had combined to prepare its soil for the 
reception and retention of the seeds and germs 
of plant-life, brought hither by birds, by the winds 
that swept its surface. Thus the deep and gloomy 



2 JOSEPHINE. 

valleys, the sloping hillsides, even the mountain- 
summits, were covered with carpets of emerald em- 
bossed with flowers and trees. 

How many ages it lay there, desolate, between 
shining sea and gloomy ocean, — who can tell ? No 
one knows when the primogenial life began : — the 
first flutter of wings, the primitive pulse-beat of 
sentient organisms. . . . But one day this paradise 
was invaded by aboriginal man, who may have 
reached it drifting upon a giant tree, wrenched from 
some forest by the hurricane, or in a rude canoe, 
hewn from cedar or ceiba. 

We have reasons for believing that he came from 
the south, from the region of the Orinoco, or the 
Amazons ; but we only know that this man found 
by Europeans in possession of the Caribbees, in the 
latter part of the fifteenth century, was of a type 
then unknown in the Old World, and called Indian. 

Columbus found here, in the last decade of that 
century which gave America into the keeping of 
civilized man, the Carib cannibals. So fierce were 
these barbarous Indians, so warlike, so active in the 
defense of their homes and hunting-grounds, that 
for many years after the so-called discovery, the 
island remained in their possession. Then the 
French adventurers colonized it : the sea-rovers and 
buccaneers, attracted by the beauty and fertility of 
the island. The Caribs were gradually driven back 
from the coast-lands to the mountain valleys, fi- 
nally disappearing altogether. The French planters 
prospered, their estates covered the lowlands ; their 




Map of the Caribbean Sea. 



JOSEPHINE. 3 

slaves, imported from Africa, multiplied to a great 
population ; their prosperity attracted the atten- 
tionof their enemies. . . . During that long and 
bloody struggle for supremacy between France and 
England, their colonial possessions suffered infin- 
itely more than the home countries. The scene of 
conflict was shifted from sea to sea, from ocean to 
ocean. Finally, having already colonized or taken 
by force many of the choicest Caribbean islands, the 
English fell upon Martinique. 

It was too rich a country to escape their clutches ; 
their fleet approached its shores ; the whole island 
was alarmed ; planters and slaves, alike animated by 
patriotic sentiment, hastened to its defense. 

A morning in January, 1Y62. . . . Upon the 
summit of a hill overlooking the deep bay of Fort 
Eoyal, stood a fair and delicate woman about 
twenty-five years of age. She was the center of a 
group of female slaves, who were regarding, as anx- 
iously as she, the scene spread out before them. 
The deep valley at their feet was filled with shadows ; 
a peaked morne cast its black counterpart across the 
intervening vale, and aslant the hill on which they 
stood. The morning air was cool and sweet ; it 
breathed of naught but peace ; yet, across the bay, 
less than four miles away, arose the smoke of con- 
flict. The English fleet had approached the shore ; 
the grim walls of Fort Saint-Louis, bristling with 
guns, were sending forth a storm of shot ; boats 
from the fleet were striving for a landing. At first 
they were repelled by the gallant islanders, but 



4 JOSBPHINU. 

eventually were successful. Then the great wooden 
ships, hitherto silent, replied to the cannonade from 
the fort, and a pall of smoke hid the scene from 
view. 

The white watcher fell to the ground and covered 
her eyes with her hands ; her servants gathered 
around her. Silent and trembling, they awaited the 
lifting of the cloud that hid the fort. An hour 
passed, and another ; the shadows shortened on the 
hill ; a faint sea-breeze drifted by them. The can- 
nonading had ceased, the cloud of smoke was dissi- 
pated by the breeze. The woman rose to her feet 
and strove to penetrate the mists that still clung 
about the farther hills. She started, gasped, looked 
again, and then fell into the supporting arms of her 
attendants. . . . 

Above the fort no longer waved the Lilies of 
France ! 

Slowly and sorrowfully the little group descended 
the hill, to the plantation-house at its foot, there to 
await such tidings as the day might bring to them. 

A bride of but little more than a month, Madame 
Tascher de La-Pagerie had been compelled to part 
from her husband a week previous to the battle, 
when he was ordered to assist at the defense of the 
Fort. As a lieutenant of the forces, he could not 
evade his duty to the government ; loyal and patri- 
otic, he yet left his bride with reluctance, and an- 
swered the imperative call to arms. 

He had sent daily messages to her as he directed 
the erection of earthworks behind the town, scarped 



JOSEPHINE. 5 

the hillsides commanding the bay ; but for the last 
two days no messenger had been able to reach the 
plantation, isolated as it was among the hills, and 
beyond the bay swept by the guns of the enemy. 

Though almost overborne by her grief and anx- 
iety, Madame Tascher could not yield to her desire 
for seclusion, but was obliged to attend to the affairs 
of the large plantation, with its dependent slaves. 
Two days had nearly passed, the second was nearirig 
its close, when the mistress of La-Pagerie saw a 
negro riding up the palm-bordered avenue from 
the landing at the bay. Standing in the southern 
doorway, above the rose-garden, she saw behind 
this horseman another, coming at a furious rate ; 
and a few minutes later was sobbing on her hus- 
band's breast. 

The fight had ended, with victory for the English ; 
the planters were dispersing to their homes ; and 
Lieutenant Tascher, who had acquitted himself so 
bravely as to win the esteem of the English com- 
mander, was permitted to return to his estate. 

Finding the demands of his large properties suffi- 
cient to occupy all his time, Lieutenant Tascher 
resigned his commission and devoted himself 
entirely to agricultural occupations. His principal 
estate was this on which he and his bride had taken 
up their abode, and which had come to them as her 
dower : the beautiful valley of Sannois near the 
little hamlet of Trois-Ilets. Acres unsurveyed lay 
spread out upon the hills adjacent : the valley itself 
penetrated far into the interior. All within sight 



6 JOSEPHINE. 

of their house was theirs, stretching from the quiet 
waters of the bay to the crests of the distant hills. 

Not only the soil belonged to them, but the entire 
population of one hundred and fifty slaves. Here 
they lived happily surrounded by their dependants, 
over whom they exercised a beneficent sway, and 
entertaining their friends, when they chanced to 
visit from the near town of Fort Royal, and the 
farther city of St. Pierre. 

Two happy and peaceful years followed the capt- 
ure of the island by the English. In the cultivation 
of his vast estate, with its billowy fields of sugar- 
cane and fragrant groves of coffee-trees, M. Tascher 
passed his time, outwardly tranquil, but inwardly 
disturbed by the thought that he and his family were 
the subjects of an alien government. His father, 
the first of the name in America, had come to this 
island of Martinique in the year 1726. He was a per- 
sonage of rank, as appears from his request, four 
years later, for the registration of his letters of 
nobility ; a formality which the French noblemen 
coming to the Antilles never omitted. 

His request was granted, but not until 1745, and 
meanwhile he had been united in marriage to Mile. 
de La Chevalerie, the daughter of a wealthy family 
of the island. 

A son was born to them, Joseph Gaspard de La- 
Pagerie, whom they sent to be educated in France. 
This young man returned to Martinique in 1755, was 
appointed First Lieutenant of Artillery, and actively 
engaged in the erection of batteries at Fort Royal, 



JOSEPHINE. 7 

the chief port and naval station of the French West 
Indies. He aided in a repulse of an English force 
under General Moore, in 1759, and (as we have al- 
ready seen) took an active part in the defense of 
Fort Royal during the second assault, in 1762. 

Following the example of his illustrious father, 
he formed an alliance with a rich Creole family, in 
November, 1761, by marriage with Mile. Rose-Clair 
des Vergers de Sannois. Through her he came into 
possession of the estate of Sannois, to which he 
retired at about the age of twenty-seven, there to 
reside the remainder of his life.* 

Absorbed as this happy couple became in the mul- 
titudinous cares of the "great-house " (as the dwell- 
ing of a West Indian proprietor is called ) and the 
acres adjacent, they yet perpetually recurred to the 
one irritant of their otherwise placid existence : the 
floating of a foreign flag above the Fort. 

As devoted children and lovers of La belle France, 
their existence was embittered by this reflection : 
that their children, should they be blest with any, 
would be born beneath an alien flag. 

Fortune, however, still continued favoring : there 
came a day when M. Tascher was made supremely 
happy by the intelligence that a daughter had been 
born to him. And, coincident with this announce- 
ment, came the faint report of cannon, from across 
the bay. Fort Royal was rejoicing over the reces- 
sion of Martinique. 

* Histoire de la Martinique. 
* See Appendix I. 



» JOSEPHINE. 

Then the cloud lifted from the planter's brow, 
for his daughter was a child of France ! 

Note. — Martinique lies between the 14th and 15th degree of lati- 
tude, north ; is about 45 miles long by 15 broad, with an area of 380 
miles. It was discovered by Columbus, in 1502, inhabited by Indians 
who called the Island Madiana. The French colonized it in 1635. 
The British seized it in the years 1762, '81, '94, and in 1809 ; but it 
was finally restored by the treaty of Paris, 1814. Slavery was abol- 
ished in 1848, and the bulk of the present population is black or 
colored. It was the naval station and rendezvous of the French, 
during the American revolution. 




Map of the Island of Martinique. 



JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTEE II. 

HER FIRST DECADE. 

This daughter of the Creole planter, whose birth 
was thus auspiciously announced by the salvos of re- 
turning peace, was none other than she who subse- 
quently became celebrated as Josephine. 

The treaty of peace, by which Martinique, 
amongst other colonial possessions, had been re- 
stored to France, was signed on the twelfth of Feb- 
ruary, 1763. A war-ship brought the news to Fort 
Eoyal ; the final transfer of troops and the installa- 
tion of the new governor took place in June, on the 
twenty-third of which month Josephine was born. 
The planter and his wife desired a son, and to veil 
their disappointment they bestowed upon the new 
arrival the name so honorably borne by the father 
and grandfather. The child was christened Marie- 
Joseph-Eose, thus combining and perpetuating the 
baptismal names of her grandfather, grandmother, 
father and mother : — Marie-Joseph-Eose-Tascher 
de La-Pagerie. This formidable appellation was 
soon abbreviated to Josephine, around which have 
since clustered all synonyms for grace and win- 
someness. 



Six years later, on the island of Corsica, was born 



10 JOSEPHINE. 

one with whom the name of Josephine is insepa- 
rably Hnked : — Napoleon. 

Napoleon and Josephine : we cannot but pause a 
moment to note the parallelisms in the great events 
of their lives. 

Both were island-born ; the one in a rock-ribbed 
isle of the Mediterranean, the other in a tropic seg- 
ment of the Caribbean crescent. 

Both first saw the light soon after the accession of 
their native land to France ; and both have been 
wrongfully accused of being but the adopted children 
of that country. * 

Both early sought the shores of the mother-land ; 
but both ever retained their love for the place of 
their birth, returning to it when in trouble, and 
maintaining an affection for its people. 

Their happiest years were those of their youth and 
passed in the retreats of nature, free from strife and 
turmoil. To them they constantly recurred, with 
longing and in loving remembrance ; but, urged by 
ambition, they pursued a course counter to the dic- 
tates of their affections. 

Each was twice married, once for love, once to 
gratify ambition. 

To the last, each retained the other in esteem, de- 
spite the estrangement of their latter years. 



But to return to that eventful day, the twenty- 

* Corsica was annexed to France in June, 1769 ; Napoleon born 
15th. of August, that year. 




BlRTHl'LACE OF JOSEPHINE. 



JOSEPHINE. 11 

third of June, 1Y63. Joy and gladness filled the 
hearts of the planter and his wife. Writing to her 
sister, a week later, Madame de La-Pagerie ex- 
pressed her great gratitude to God for " His gift of 
a daughter," and hoped the child would possess all 
the most agreeable traits of both ancestral families. 
That her desires were gratified, at least in this re- 
gard, history has assured us ; no more loving and 
winsome infant, later developing into a graceful 
and sympathetic girl and mother, ever gladdened 
the hearts of hopeful parents. 

The Creole nature is one of complaisance ; yet, the 
surroundings of a child of wealthy parents, in those 
days of slavery, were not conducive to deferential de- 
portment. Slave women waited on the child from 
birth, their children were also at its service night and 
day. 

Hereditary influences and climatic conditions 
conduced to shape the little Creole into a perfect 
type of her class. She was unfettered by clothes 
and unrestrained by commands. As the tropical 
sun evokes from the soil an exuberance of vegeta- 
tion to which the colder regions are strangers, so, 
too, the solar energy manifests itself in the ardency 
of the human temperament. 

The Creole is more volatile, less restrained, more 
passionate, and given to lighter play of fancy, than 
the dweller at the North. And this quality is more 
than temperamental : it is physical, also. 

The Creole (that is, the descendant of Europeans 
born in the Tropics) has a delicacy of figure and 



12 JOSEPHINE. 

litheness of limb, a grace and freedom of move- 
ment, that compensates for the loss of robustness 
and perhaps of virility. Free from the restraints 
of clothing, in earliest youth, the body develops 
along natural lines and the limbs become models of 
symmetry. 

Such a "child of the sun," a creature of love, 
laughter, and careless gayety, was the youthful 
Josephine. As soon as she could walk outside the 
doors of the '' great house " she became the favorite 
companion of the slave-children, who swarmed 
about the establishment. Or, rather, they became 
her devoted adherents, guiding her footsteps, watch- 
ing over her every movement. She was really a 
queen before she could talk, an empress in fact 
before she ever saw the shores of France. Accus- 
tomed to have her lightest fancy taken seriously, 
to have her orders obeyed as soon as uttered, she 
was in danger of becoming -imperious and selfish. 
Only her native sweetness saved her : the innate 
and surpassing graciousness of her disposition. 

There is a tradition of a sister, a year older than 
herself ; but the records of the little church where 
she was baptized do not confirm it. At all events, 
she had no sisterly companion with whom to join in 
play, and was chiefiy thrown upon the resources 
afforded by the colored children about the place. 

There was freedom enough : room enough in 
which to expand, to develop, to indulge in romp or 
ramble. 

The planter's house was situated upon a natural 



JOSEPEUNE. 13 

terrace, escarped from the side of a steep hill. 
Behind it rose the hills that swung around the head 
of the valley and cut off the view in that direction. 
But in front, the ground sloped towards the sea, to 
which led a broad and straight avenue of mag- 
nificent palms. Their trunks straight as arrows, 
and over one hundred feet in height ; their verdant 
crowns interlaced above the road. 

Between the house and the palm-avenue lay the 
rose-garden, filled with plants that bloomed perpet- 
ually ; their fragrance invaded and made delightful 
the atmosphere of the dwelling. 

A fruit-garden rambled around the outer edge of 
this paradise of roses, straggled over the slopes, 
and finally lost itself in the depths of the valley, 
out of which tumbled a brawling stream. In the 
dry season this stream was a mere babbling brook, 
drawing its thread of silver over the broad and 
rocky bed ; when the rains came it fumed and 
roared, fighting its way between the tree-trunks 
and carrying some of them off with it to the sea. 

When in its normal condition it held many a 
peaceful pool in its embrace, rambling from one to 
another with the freedom of a true tropical lover. 
One of these pools was early selected by Josephine's 
mother as her bathing-place. It lay beneath a giant 
ceiha tree, a silk-cotton, whose buttressed trunk 
reached out into it, and above it spread its canopy 
of verdant foliage. 

The glorious palms and the silk-cottons were the 
Titans of this tropical world in miniature, towering 



14 JOSEPHINE. 

SO high above their fellows that all others were 
dwarfed by comparison. Beneath them grew the 
mango and guava, the custard-apple, sapote, banana, 
orange, plantain, calabash, and a hundred others. 
Fruits were in abundance, all the year through. 
The golden-fruited mango shaded the veranda and 
dropped its delicious morsels for the little girl to 
find. The same tree, or one of its descendants, still 
casts its shade over the ground where Josephine 
played with her companions. On the hill-slopes 
gleamed the yellow cane, in the gorges grew the 
glossy-leaved coffee, with its crimson fruit. Tan- 
gles of vine and serpentine liane made barriers at 
the mouths of the ravines and hung their festoons 
around the trees. 

But this Happy Valley was not without its evil 
things ; beneath the luxuriant growth of vine and 
shrub lurked many dangers. Within the house 
itself were venomous insects, hiding beneath the 
floors, in holes and corners. There was always 
danger of disturbing an enormous centipede, with 
its numerous feet, its scaly back and poisonous 
mandibles. This island is its peculiar haunt, 
and here it attains to a length of many inches. 
Rapid of movement as anything that crawls, it 
flashes upon your sight an instant, then is gone. 
It hides in your clothing, and if disturbed pricks its 
poison into your flesh, leaving behind a burning 
fever. Or the tarantula, which here is surcharged 
with venom, and is found so large that its hairy 
legs can spread across a saucer. Scorpions, too, 



JOSEPHINE. 15 

share with the centipedes the soft and rotting wood, 
and hide beneath chips, dead leaves and even cast- 
off clothing. Ants in great variety, some of them 
capable of inflicting burning stings, some invading 
the house in hordes of millions. Great house- 
spiders, harmless but hideous ; bats as large as 
doves, but not so innocent of harmful intent ; 
chigoes, minute insects that penetrate the flesh and 
lay eggs therein that develop into festering sores ; 
the bete-rouge, a kind of tick, that fastens upon the 
skin and buries its head in the flesh. These are the 
worst of the plagues with which a tropical country 
is infested ; but mere mention of them will show 
how many are the dangers to which an infant 
is exposed. Even the carefully-nurtured child of 
wealth cannot wholly escape some annoyance, and 
the children of the lower classes are frequently 
stung and bitten. 

Contempt is the child of familiarity, and the fre- 
quency with which such pests are seen divests them 
of the terror they might otherwise inspire. But 
there is one disturber of the peace in Martinique 
which is not only carefully avoided, but feared. 
This is the poisonous serpent, called the Fer-de- 
Lance. It is aggressive and venomous, and though 
its home is in the forest, yet it frequently descends 
to the gardens, and even enters the dwellings. Ever 
since the island has been in possession of the white 
man, this serpent has been a terror and scourge. 
It invades the cane -fields, where it strikes down the 
negro-laborer ; suspends itself from limbs of trees 



16 JOSEPHIKE. 

that stretch above the forest-paths ; lies in wait for 
its victims in every conceivable situation. Except 
within the cities, where the streets are lighted, there 
is no stir of human life in this tropical island, after 
the shades of night have fallen. Imagine, then, the 
monotony of existence on a plantation, where the 
family seek repose soon after dark ; where books 
are scarce ; to which the newspaper rarely pene- 
trates. 

The span of child-life is the daytime ; the waking 
hours filled with boisterous play, the night with 
sleep. To the child, then, the monotony of planta- 
tion-life would not seem depressing. 

* See Ai)penclix II. 



JOSEPHHTE. 17 



CHAPTER III. 

THE GREAT HURRICANE. 

"I ran, I jumped, I danced, from morning to 
night ; no one restrained the wild movements of 
my childhood," 

These are the words of Josephine herself, recur- 
ring in later years to the happiest period of her 
life : the first decade of her child-life at Sannois- 
de-la-Pagerie. 

With the earliest dawn of day she was out of her 
couch and in the open air. The great room in 
which she slept, with its bare white walls and tiled 
floor, was occupied conjointly with her favorite 
nurse, Adee, who was tireless in her efforts to 
please and protect her little charge. Adee was one 
of those golden-skinned products of tropical Marti- 
nique, a metise, with purple tints in hair and 
melancholy eyes, and the hues of sun-ripened fruit 
in her complexion. She was tall and lithe, young, 
joyous, and loving. Her lovers could be counted by 
the score ; but not one of them could draw her 
away from " 'f^ Josephine,'''' to whom she had vowed 
devotion to the death. 

One of those delicious mornings, to experience 



18 JOSEPHINE. 

which is the joy of a lifetime, Josephine opened 
her eyes to see her good nurse bending over her. 
She was that day three years old, and a little fete 
had been arranged in celebration of such an impor- 
tant event. It was the custom, among the planters 
of that time, to perform some act, or make some 
sacrifice, that should cause the birthdays of their 
children to be remembered. On this occasion M. 
Tascher had promised to give his daughter an un- 
usual happiness : in honor of her birthday he had 
promised to free one of the slaves. 

It was with the recollection of her father's prom- 
ise, that she opened her eyes and looked up question- 
ingly into the face of her nurse. "^Is it lovely? 
Is the sun shining ? " she asked. 

''Of course it i^, petit fi ! it is always shining; 
but " 

'^ But ? " repeated Josephine, anxiously. " It 
nfiust shine ; to-day little Jo- jo is to be made free. 
Papa has given him to me." 

"Yes, ma chere,^'' said the girl, imprinting a kiss 
on the ripe lips, which Josephine unconsciously re- 
turned ; ' ' but I saw a bad-looking cloud in the sky, 
as I went out to feed the doves, and the hurricane- 
birds were flying low over the bay. But roll out, 
now, let me put on the new frock from the Fort. 
Ah, how lovely she will look ; come now, to the 
bath." 

The little pink feet pattered across the marble 
tiles, to the bath-room, where the sweet water from 
the hills, Veau douce, was gurgling in the basin, 



JOSEPHINE. 19 

and soon their owner was laughing and plashing, 
to the music of the stream. The nurse's face wore 
an anxious expression, but with sweet gravity she 
attended upon the child, now and then casting a look 
towards the window opening upon the bay. Sud- 
denly the door of the chamber was opened, and M. 
Tascher appeared. He cast a hurried glance around, 
and then, seeing the ones he sought, he seized a 
large bath-towel, threw it around his daughter, and 
gathering her into his arms, pressed her to his 
breast, kissing her passionately. 

"Quick, Adee, follow me with what you can find 
at hand. To the case-a-vent : to the hurricane- 
house ; lose not a moment ; the hurricane is upon 
us. Madame is already there." * 

The quick ears of Adee had already caught the 
premonitory mutterings of the coming storm ; but 
she had hoped to finish the child's toilet without 
alarming her. Gathering into her arms some 
articles of clothing scattered on the floor, she 
hastened after her master, who had crossed the en- 
closure behind the dwelling, and was at the entrance 
of the hurricane-house. 

The case-a-vent, or hurricane-house, was an in- 
dispensable adjunct of every plantation in the island, 

* The author is indebted for this narrative, to the traditions of 
Trois-Ilets. 

Tlie great hurricane, wliich destroyed the property of M. 
Tascher, and devastated the island, occurred the 13tli August, 
1766, some seven weeks after Josephine's third birthday. See 
Appendix (3) and " Histoire Generale des Antilles." 



20 JOSEPHINE. 

subject as it was to those terrible storms called by 
the first Indians, ouragans, and which have made 
desolate many a fair and prosperous estate. 

It is usually built into or under the side of a hill, 
with walls of stone several feet in thickness, and, 
as far as possible, in a sheltered situation. The door 
is of thick plank, there are no windows ; and, as may 
be imagined, the air within, if the storm be of long 
duration, is most oppressive. 

Not too soon had the family of M. Tascher 
sought and gained the shelter of the cave under the 
hill. Scarcely had the last servant been drawn 
within and the massive door closed and bolted, than 
the hurricane was upon them in all its fury. The 
tall palms writhed and bent beneath its blows ; 
mango and calabash, orange and guava trees were 
quickly stripped of their limbs ; roof-tiles from the 
mansion, boards from the negro-quarters, and 
branches wrenched from trees, were hurled through 
the air. 

The door of the case-a-vent groaned on its huge 
hinges, strained at the iron bars across it, almost 
burst its fastenings. The air within the cave be- 
came hot to suffocation ; moans and cries arose 
from the terrified servants ; but little Josephine 
uttered not a word. Close clasping her arms around 
her father's neck, and clinging also to her mother's 
hand, she lay quiet and calm. But within her 
tender bosom what tumultuous feelings struggled 
for expression ! . . . Her fete-day, it was to have 
been ; she was to have ruled the plantation as a 



JOSEPHINE. 21 

queen absolute ; one of her subjects was to have 
been freed from the bonds of slavery ; on every side 
there would have been joy and rejoicing. But now 
. . . Upon a sensitive organism like hers, what 
lasting impress would this scene and experience 
make ! . . . With senses exquisitely attuned to the 
harmonies of nature, what a shock would be this 
dissonance ! 

Thus early in her sad life, she was brought face 
to face with the terror and despair of humanity. 
She must have been impressed with man's impo- 
tence ; perhaps then was born her fatalism, her 
resignation to the inevitable, to which she clung in 
later years. 

The hours passed slowly ; but finally the door 
ceased to strain at its fastenings, and M. Tascher 
commanded the huge negro who had it in charge, 
to open it a little way. Carefully and slowly, the 
bolts were drawn and daylight admitted. All was 
quiet without. The darkness that had accompanied 
the storm, caused by the dense clouds and sheets of 
rain, had been dispelled by the sun, which was now 
shining brightly. A mighty sigh of relief arose 
from that imprisoned throng ; but changed to cries 
of distress as the scene of desolation met their view. 

The wind had died away to a moan ; exhausted 
nature lay prostrate, torn and bleeding. Hardly a 
tree was left standing : huge ceibas, cedars, and 
sapote trees had been uprooted and cast to the 
ground. But the most mournful spectacle was of 
the palm-avenue, for in place of the columnar 



22 JOSEPHINE. 

trunks with their waving plumes, was a ragged row 
of shattered stumps, with here and there a few 
mangled leaves clinging to the stems. The huts of 
the negroes, which had been grouped around the 
sugar-mill, were entirely destroyed, and soon a 
hundred despairing beings were groping in their 
ruins. 

All this scene of devastation M. Tascher took in 
at a glance ; it somewhat prepared him for the 
crowning desolation of all : the total destruction of 
his house.* 

A groan escaped him, as he looked upon what had 
been his happy home. In ruins ; not a wall left 
standing ; the rose-garden strewn with stones and 
tiles. From that moment the father of Josephine 
was a changed and broken man. Tall, alert, hand- 
some, ever with a smile on his bronzed face, he 
had worked hopefully for his home and family ; had 
built and improved ; but now, all was swept away, 
the work of years, the improvements of a century. 

He never rebuilt the great-house ; for years after, 
the family lived in the upper rooms of the sucrerie, 
or sugar-house, where the cane was ground and 
converted into sugar. 

His wife clung to his shoulders and little Josephine 
mutely appealed to be taken to his arms. With- 
drawing his fixed gaze from the ruins, he looked 
absently at them a moment ; then the consciousness 

*"lf. de La Pagerie eut sa maison cVhahitation entierement 
ruinee ; le bdtiment seul de sa sucrerie resta debout. C^est la qui'' I se 
refugia avec safemmeet Josephine,'''' etc., Histoire de la Martinique. 



JOSEPHINE. 23 

of their continued presence came upon him and he 
clasped them to his breast. " My wife, my daughter ; 
yes, thank the good God, they are left to me ! '' 

With eyes blinded by tears, the unfortunates 
sought for some familiar scene ; but all was changed. 
The river had burst its banks, had swept away their 
garden and many trees ; but more than this : it had 
carried away some of their servants in the flood. 

Only the great sugar-house remained standing, of 
all the buildings pertaining to the estate. To this 
structure the now homeless family directed their 
steps. Its walls were of stone, some two feet in 
thickness, its rafters heavy and covered with earthen 
tiles, the doorways were broad, with granite lintels. 
Above the ground-floor, where the machinery was 
placed: huge rollers to press the juice from the cane, 
great gloomy vats filled with water, an endless 
tramway for the carrying away of the cane-stalks ; 
above this dark, cavern-like room were two large 
chambers. The beams supporting the floor were 
sound and strong, and the floor itself intact. To 
the chambers the negroes, obeying M. Tascher's 
orders, carried such of the furniture as they could 
find, such of the scattered clothing and valuables as 
could be collected, and there the family took up their 
abode. Fate, or fortune, so willed it that while she 
lived at Trois-Ilets, Josephine knew no other place of 
residence, unless visiting at the house of a friend, or 
at school. 

Two dormer windows were thrown out towards 
the sea, the bare rafters were hung with draperies, 



24 JOSEPHINE. 

mats of rushes were strewn upon the floor, and the 
rooms made as habitable as possible. 

The old building still stands (or it stood, a few 
years ago, when it was seen by the writer of these 
lines), a mute memorial of that scene of devastation 
of more than one hundred years ago. Nothing else 
remains to remind one of what transpired here when 
it was the home of the youthful empress. Of the 
great-house, only the kitchen was left standing, by 
the hurricane ; the ancienne cuisine, as it is called 
to-day ; this, too, still exists. The lover of Josephine, 
the traveler who may chance to reach this obscure 
valley, may still trace the outline of the great-house 
walls, and look upon the small structure that was 
once attached to it. Its walls are of stone, its roof 
of rich-hued tiles, lichen-covered. Above it droops 
a mango tree, dropping its golden fruit to-day, as in 
the century past, for the children playing beneath 
its shade. In this small building lived for many 
years the mother of Josephine, after the death of 
her husband, and even while her daughter was em- 
press of France. 

As the watchful Adee was carrying Josephine to 
the place in which they were to live, her attention 
was attracted by an object floating at the river-side. 
She halted, but, though shuddering with an unde- 
fined feeling of dread, she continued her way to the 
upper chamber, first leaving her charge with a serv- 
ant, before returning to confirm her fears. 



JOSEPHINE. 25 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE CARIB PROPHETESS. 

Her fears were realized. Parting the guava 
bushes, peering through them fearfully, Adee saw 
the body of little Jo- jo, his hands grasping the guava 
roots, his glassy eyes looking up into the sky. ' ' Ah, 
pauv* gar con ; poor little Jo- jo ; and yesterday he 
was to have been free ! " Adee carefully drew the 
dead boy from the water, and took him to the negro 
camp, where his mother received him in stony 
silence. Hers was not the only bleeding heart in 
the valley of Sannois. A disaster so overwhelm- 
ing, so universal, had reduced the usually boister- 
ous negroes to despairing quietude. They gathered 
around the mother with mute offers of sympathy ; 
one stretched out the contorted limbs, another went 
to the wrecked workshop and made him a casket of 
cedar wood ; another dug a grave beneath the mango- 
tree above the ford. That evening they bore him 
gently to his rest beneath the fruited mango, all the 
slaves joining in the procession. Jo- jo had been the 
favorite playfellow of Josephine ; he was a few 
years older than the white child, and grave and dig- 
nified beyond his age. Next to Adee, he had held a 
place in her heart, as one to be loved and trusted. 
Her first inquiry, after the noon-day siesta, was for 



26 JOSEPHINE. 

her companion. *' Bring Jo-jo to me, Adee, I wish 
to tell him he is free. No fete, no flowers ; only the 
big storm ; but no matter ; it was my birthday, was 
it not ? And papa promised me Jo-jo. I wonder if 
he will leave us and his mamma, now he is free ? " 

" He has left already," said Adee, burying her 
head in her hands ; "when you were sleeping, a 
good man came to take him away." 

The child regarded her inquiringly. Her own 
nature was truthful ; she believed in her nurse im- 
plicitly ; but there was a veiled something in her 
words she could not understand. It seemed incred- 
ible that Jo- jo should have gone without bidding 
her farewell. 

At last she said, calmly, with a suspicion of fear 
creeping around her heart ; ' ' Adee^ who was the 
' good man ' ; was it " 



"Ah, ma chere it was le Bon Die ; — the good Lord 
took little Jo jo." The child clasped her hands, her 
tears flowing silently. 

"Then, Adee, — then Jo- jo is free, is he not ? " 
' ' Yes, child ; but do not think of it ; better not ; 
he is happy now. Come, come down with me to the 
bay. I will carry you." Adee forced herself to 
smile, singing a favorite song, which always capt- 
ured the hearts of the little ones :— - 

" Come, my darling, kiss your sweetheart ; 
She will buy you fowl and rice ; 
Come, my dearest, kiss your sweetheart." 

Josephine rose submissively, and Adee took her to 



JOSEPHINE. 27 

the bay, wending her way through and over fallen 
tree- trunks, and the million fragments of their dev- 
astated home. There they found the fishermen 
assembled, bewailing the total loss of their boats and 
nets. The shore was strewn with wreckage, and 
multitudes of fish were lying on the sands and in the 
grass, where the storm had cast them. 

The river-mouth was full of titiri, little fish so 
small that a hundred would scarce fill a teaspoon, 
but which, when fresh, are made into the most 
delicious of fish-cakes. The natives of the island 
have a tradition that the titiri only appear with the 
heats of the summer lightning, and they call the 
electric flashes of the storms in July and August, 
the " titiri lightnings " : z'eclarai-titiri, which, they 
say, hatch the fish. 

Then there was the " perroquet," or parakeet fish, 
with its bands of vivid yellow and red ; the cirur- 
gien, all blue and black ; the souri, in pink and yel- 
low ; and finally, Adee pointed out the ^' Bo7i-Die- 
manie-moi,^^ so-called by the fishermen : " the Good- 
God-handled- me," because it had finger-marks on 
each side its head. 

By diverting the child in this manner, directing 
her attention to the manifold attractions spread out 
by nature, on every side, Adee restored her to her 
former self, and it was with composure that they 
returned to the shelter of the sugar-house. 



After months and years of constant labor, M. 
Tascher succeeded in restoring to the devastated 



28 JOSEPHINE. 

plantation somewhat of its former aspect of exuber- 
ant fertility ; but, though the ruins of the great- 
house were removed, and the hill-slopes replanted in 
coffee and cane, neither the giant trees nor the 
houses were replaced. 

The struggle with nature was exhausting and 
depressing, for the elemental forces were difficult to 
control, and periodically burst their bounds, destroy- 
ing in a day or a night what it had taken years to 
create. Thus the planter became the victim of 
•gloom and depression, and his wife worn with the 
unceasing battle for life. Their great joy was their 
daughter. Year by year, Josephine grew in grace 
and beauty, developing into a sweet and thoughtful 
maiden ; full of the tenderness, the gentle gravity, 
so characteristic of the high-born Creole. 

At the age of ten she was almost arrived at 
woman's stature ; not tall, but admirably propor- 
tioned, with a flexile, graceful figure ; abundant 
hair crowned her shapely head ; her hands and feet 
were so small and so beautiful that in after years 
Napoleon never ceased to admire them. Although 
sun-kissed and breeze-caressed, from her constant 
exercise in open air, yet her complexion was rich and 
delicately-tinted. In short, she was strong and 
healthy, agile and supple, with a mind as free from 
morbid thoughts or impulses as her body was from 
taint of disease, or physical defect. 

Her nurse was still her companion ; Adee had 
kept pace with her mistress in the development of 
physical charms, and was now a ripened Juno, the 



JOSEPHINE. 29 

envy of her female companions and the despair of 
would-be lovers. She guarded her as tenderly as 
during the first years of infancy, when she had been 
given into her charge by the mother. She was more 
than mother to her, since she gave her all her time, 
allowed her own rich life to be absorbed by the other. 
And Josephine repaid her devotion with love of 
equal measure ; she was her friend and confidante, 
not her servant. They were inseparable, they took 
long walks together, bathed in the same pool beneath 
the ceiba, sang and danced together. 

It was during one of their long rambles late one 
afternoon, when they had penetrated into the valley 
farther than usual, that they had an adventure 
which made a great impression upon Josephine. 
They had followed the stream from the lower vale 
till it became a mere rivulet, and near its source, 
perched, on the side-hill under a great gommier tree, 
saw a hut of palm and cane leaves. It was little 
more than an ajoupa, or sylvan hut, to exterior view ; 
but on close approach it revealed a substantial con- 
struction and unexpected amplitude within. 

In front of the ajoupa sat a womS,n of some 
thirty-five years, beneath a bower of plantain 
leaves. Accompanying Josephine and her nurse was 
a girl from Trois-Ilets, or Fort Eoyal, — probably her 
father had a city house at the latter, and estate at 
the former bourg, — who was frequently her com- 
panion. She was a little older than Josephine, this 
young lady, Aimee Dubec de Rivery, and belonged 
to one of the oldest families of the island. 



30 JOSEPHINE. 

The proprietress of the hut invited them to enter, 
and they wonderingly accepted her invitation. She 
was a Fille de Couleiir, of attractive appearance ; 
a daughter of the people, born with all the inherited 
charms of the mingled blood of Carib, Negro and 
Caucasian, Her black eyes and hair had the purple 
tint bestowed by the Carib ; her feet and hands also 
showed by their smallness and delicacy the aborig- 
inal birthright. Her serpentine movements, the 
flowing curves of her figure, the silk-like smooth- 
ness of her richly-tinted skin, all proclaimed her a 
representative of the island's best and rarest type.* 

She was clad in the holiday costume of the richest 
of her class, which revels in color and startling 
effects. On her head she wore a turban of gay 
"Madras," — a mouchoir of brightest colors ; her 
skirt or douillette was of violet silk ; over her 
shoulders was a foidard or shoulder-scarf, of costly 
silk ; and this, as well as the turban, was orna- 
mented with gold brooches and "trembling-pins.'' 

She appeared a veritable queen of the forest ; but 
she was really a priestess of Obeah, 

" You did not come for that purpose," she said to 
them, as they seated themselves upon wooden 
benches ; " you did not come to have your fortunes 
prognosticated, but to-day they will be told you." 

The girls shrank from her touch, as she ventured 

* Josephine, when at Navarre, repeated this story, in substance, 
and it is given in various biographies of the Empress. Island tradi- 
tion, however, makes the prophetess of Carib, rather than of African, 
descent. 



JOSEPHE^B. 31 

to take their hands ; but Adee, herself of the same 
class of mixed-bloods, reassured them and bade them 
not to be afraid. 

" Why should you be afraid ? It is a good fortune 
that I shall give to both of you. And first, you are 
both to be queens : yes, one of you will reign in 
France, the other in an Oriental harem." 

This preposterous announcement at once restored 
their courage, and the girls entered with zest into 
the spirit of the occasion. " Yes, " proceeded the 
sibyl, frowning at their levity, ''good fortune will 
at first attend you both ; each of you will make a 
long and stormy voyage ; each will at first marry 
happily ; but eventually one will be released by the 
death of her husband, the other will be captured by 
Algerian pirates and sold to the slavery of the Sultan 
of Turkey. She will acquire great influence with 
him, and her son will afterwards sit on the throne ; 
but she will die miserably. "As for you," address- 
ing Josephine, " as for you, it is written in the stars 
that you will become the bride of the greatest man 
the modern world has seen. No, he is not yet in 
the world's eye ; his star will rise coincident with 
yours. But when yours sinks, then his also sets 
beneath the horizon. Go now ; I have spoken ; you 
do not believe me ; but wait, wait yet twenty years. " 

The trembling girls departed, vainly striving to 
shake off the evil effect of this intercourse with the 
mysterious woman. Whether or not this prediction 
of the sibyl was ever uttered, the incident is found 
in the memoirs of the queen ; it cannot be ignored. 



32 JOSEPHINE. 

Mademoiselle Aimee, was, it is said, subsequently- 
captured by Algerian corsairs, sold to the Sultan, 
and became the mother of one of the numerous Mo- 
hammeds, or Selims, with whom Turkey has been 
cursed. 

Silent and subdued, they pursued the valley path 
to the sucrerie ; the sun had set, the stars were out, 
behind them the Southern Cross stood still above 
the crest of a hill. A black bird swooped across 
their path, uttered a shrill shriek at sight of them, 
and disappeared. 'Bon Di^,"^ muttered Adee, 
crossing herself, '^ that was the Diahlotin.^^ 

* Die, island patois for Dieu. 



JOSEPHINE. 88 



CHAPTER V. 

AT DIAMOND ROCK. 

The Diahlotin, or Devil-bird^ has its home in the 
mountain, where, at the very summit, it burrows a 
hole for itself. More than two hundred years ago 
it was discovered, yet to-day it is as mysterious as 
ever. As night falls the lone dweller in the mountain 
valley, or the solitary fisherman drawing his net, 
hears a shriek, as of a despairing soul, sees a dusky 
figure sweep by him ; that is all. Then he crosses 
himself, saying : ''The Devil-bird is a- wing, and I 
must seek a shelter." For days the apprehension of 
evil to befall will cling to him ; no more firmly does 
the Oriental believe in the malific virtue of the evil 
eye. 

In reality, the Diablotin is a harmless bird, a 
species of petrel, its home in the mountain-top, its 
haunts over the turbulent sea. But Adee was firm 
in her conviction that something harmful would 
result from this chance meeting with the Devil-bird ; 
and when, that night, Madame La-Pagerie told her 
that it had been decided to send Josephine away to 
school, she felt her fears were verified. 

" O Yeyette mi " (addressing Josephine by the 
pet name of the household), and throwing her arms 
3 



34 JOSEPHINE. 

around her neck : " Yeyette, ma fille, you will not 
leave your dear Adee ? What can the schools teach 
you ? Do you not already know how to dance, to 
sing, to play the tambou, to embroider, to whistle 
like the birds, to run like the agouti ? Never, never 
will you be so happy as you are now. Stay with us, 
Yeyette." 

Madame La-Pagerie smiled sadly, but, untwining 
the arms of the loving pair, drew Josephine to her 
side and set before her the necessity of attending to 
her commands. "You are now a large girl, my 
darling, I have taught you all it is possible, en- 
cumbered as I am with the care of your two sisters ; 
your education must be finished at the convent. It 
will not be a long separation, and besides you can 
return here every week, spending a day with us. 
Adee shall go with you and return with you, if you 
desire." 

Her tears were flowing, for it cost her a great 
effort to part, even temporarily, from her eldest 
daughter. She had been so helpful to her : a 
womanly companion rather than a little child ; yet 
Vv^ithal so ready to engage in romp or frolic. Jose- 
phine said nothing, but kissed her mother sub- 
missively, and was led to her chamber by Adee, 
blinded by her tears. There the two wept together, 
and consoled each other with the assurance that the 
separation should not be for a long time, and that, 
the great scheme of education finished, Yeyette 
would return to live with them all her life. 

There were two convents of repute in Martinique, 



JOSEPHINE. 35 

that of the Ursulines at St. Pierre, the farther city ; 
and another, the " Dames de la Providence," at the 
near town of Fort Royal. Here lived Josephine's 
grandmother, with whom she resided while attend- 
ing school at Fort Royal, and who cared for her 
as for her own child. The years passed rapidly ; 
Josephine was an apt pupil and readily acquired all 
the nuns could teach her. At the age of fifteen she 
returned to her home at La-Pagerie, where she had 
spent the long vacations. 

Her two sisters, Desiree and Marie, were then 
aged respectively about twelve and ten. During 
the years when they might have been her compan- 
ions she was away at school ; thus it was that Adee 
still held the place of elder sister in her affections. 
The faithless Adee, having been in a measure 
separated from the idol of her heart, had allowed 
one of her numerous admirers to capture and carry 
her away. 

Released from school, Josephine hastened to rejoin 
the expectant family at La-Pagerie, and the day 
following the happy reunion an excursion was 
planned to the sea-valley behind the hills where 
Adee, now a matron and mother, was living with her 
husband. 

She had sent invitation by special messenger, an 
old African, who had waited in order to guide the 
party over the hills. They started at daybreak : 
M. Tascher, grave but kindly, led the little procession 
mounted upon a Puerto-Rico pony ; behind him, in 
hammocks of Cayenne grass slung between poles 



36 JOSEPHINE. 

carried by stout negro-laborers, were the daughters 
of the house of La-Pagerie, gay and laughing. 

They took the valley path until it ended at a break 
in the hills, whence they descended towards the 
open sea. Hitherto in deep shade, owing to the 
early hour of their departure, the sun burst upon 
them at the hill-crest, illumining the blue ocean and 
gilding the spires, the mountain peaks, of the 
distant island of St. Lucia, where also M. Tascher 
had a plantation. The girls caught their breath at 
the beauty of the scene spread out before them, 
clapped their hands with joy at sight of the new 
world at their feet. Josephine was full of elation 
at the prospect of soon meeting with her devoted 
nurse. The cool morning breezes fanned her hair 
and cheeks, the gilt-crested humming-birds darted 
at her hammock and played around her head. Sweet 
odors of honeysuckle and frangipanni, jessamine 
and acacia, filled the air, and the birds, the wrens 
and siffleurs, caroled to her as she passed them by. 

With a heart bursting with gladness and filled 
with thanksgivings, the girl reclined in her hammock, 
dreamily noting the shifting phases of the gliding 
panorama. The joyous slaves sang wild songs of 
their native Africa, their deep bassos reverberating 
in the gorges, as they swung along, happy in the 
service of their mistress. At the head of the pro- 
cession, now descending the narrow trail in Indian 
file, strode the ancient African. He carried a small 
drum, or tamhou, made by stretching a skin of some 
wild animal over the head of a hollowed log. As 



JOSEPHINE. 37 

the sea opened to their view he sent out a note of 
warning to the dwellers in the valley : ' ' Tarn, tarn, 
tam, tarn, tarn.'''' It was heard and answered : 
" Poum, poum, poiim, poum." "La calienda!^^ 
shouted the hammock-bearers, ' ' The dance, the 
African dance. Ah, we will have a good time, 
soon." 

Thus, elated with anticipation of a feast and 
dance, the negroes hastened forward, and soon they 
had reached the shore, where the hills had drawn 
their feet away from the sea and left a curving 
beach, backed by fertile meadow and bordered with 
cocoa palms. 

Beneath the palms was a collection of grass huts, 
with wattled sides and deep-thatched roofs, sur- 
rounded with gardens of tropical fruits. Here 
lived the freed negroes and colored people of that 
district, and, standing in the doorway of one of the 
newest of the huts, was the Junoesque figure of 
Adee. In her arms was an infant, a twelvemonth 
child, naked as a god, golden in hue as the boy the 
Guiana Indians offered to the king of El Dorado. 
With a loud cry of joy, she ran forward to welcome 
her darling Yeyette, casting the astonished infant 
into the hammock, and clasping the girl in her 
arms. 

"Ah, Yeyette mi, my darling, light of my eyes, 
my heart's idol ! Adee thought she would never 
see you again." They laughed and cried, holding 
each other close, and then at arm's length, gazing 
into eyes filled with tears of joy. When the 



38 JOSEPHEN'E. 

paroxysm had passed, Adee picked up the golden 
infant and led the way to her house. Her husband, 
another magnificent specimen of the mixed race, a 
brown-skinned Adonis, was introduced, and soon 
refreshments were brought the tired travelers. A 
little black boy climbed a cocoanut tree and cast down 
some ''water-nuts," then descending, he clipped off 
the pointed end of each, leaving a small round hole, 
opening into the ivory geode, filled with sweetest 
water. 

Drinking this clear nectar, they were refreshed, 
and after the hammocks were slung beneath the 
trees they all took a brief rest, after which the vis- 
itors were summoned to a straw-thatched pavilion, 
where, spread upon a table, was a banquet, prepared 
with all the luxuries of the Tropics. The air was 
perfumed with the fragrance of pine-apples, bananas, 
savory soups and delicious desserts. M. Tascher 
presided, his eldest daughter sat at his right hand, 
with her sisters opposite, while the happy Adee, her 
husband, and the prettiest girls in the hamlet, 
waited upon them. Breakfast having been served, 
and the attendants having disposed of their duties 
for the day, a short siesta was indulged in, after 
which all repaired to a near palm grove, to witness, 
and take part in, if so desirous, the dance of the 
day. Seated upon the ground, with a back-ground 
of netted lianes, was the aged African who had 
been their guide. He took a large tamhou between 
his knees and began the preliminary call to the cali- 
enda : — Poum, poum ; tam-tam-tam, tam-poum ! " 



JOSEPHINE. 39 

The hollow sound rolled along the plain and through 
the woods, rising and falling, diminishing and 
swelling, with a weird and powerful effect. Billows 
of sound, deep muttering as of distant thunder, wild 
calls of night-birds, melancholy wailings of wander- 
ing spirits : all these seemed to be evoked from that 
skin-covered log. A peculiar quality of the tambou- 
roll is, that it traverses vast distances, penetrates 
great areas of forest, impelling the listener to seek 
out its source, to assemble with his brothers for the 
wild and savage calienda. Old " Fou-fou " (the 
Crazy-crazy) had acquired the art from an African 
ancestor, himself a great chief of a coast-tribe ; and 
by means of the subtle, fascinating, and awe-inspir- 
ing thunder roll of the tambou, his royal forbear 
had often called his tribe to war. 

Brought to America with the imported slaves, the 
tambou still supplies the negro with his simple 
music, supplemented sometimes by that evoked 
from calabash and gourd. 

Not for many years had old Crazy-crazy had so 
distinguished an audience, and the presence of the 
master of Sannois, together with his charming 
daughters, inspired him to unprecedented feats of 
skill. The protesting tambou growled and groaned, 
howled and moaned, sent its wail afar and its muffled 
sighs deep into the earth. 

" Hark ! " cried Adee, "it is the voice of Pelee, the 
sigh of the demon- jombie, who lives in the crater- 
heart of the great volcano." 

In truth, it seemed the very earth was trembling ; 



40 JOSEPHINE. 

almost the awed listeners could fancy they heard 
the ominous mutterings of a coming earthquake, 
and they shuddered. For the earthquake was no 
stranger to the dwellers in Martinique. 

Then old Fou-fou sat astride the drum, tapping it 
with his finger-tips, caressing it with rapid passes of 
his hands, and now and then punishing it with a 
vicious kick of his naked heel. He broke into sav- 
age song, in the chorus of which the assembled 
negroes joined : — 

" Oh, yoie-yoi'e ; 
Oh, misse-ah, 
Y bel tambouye, 
Ai'e, ya, ya'ie, 
Joli Tambouye." 

The music ended in a prolonged roll, dying to a 
m.oan, a sigh, fainter and fainter, until lost in the 
forest-depths. The African fell from his drum 
prone upon the ground, and with a sigh of relief his 
auditors left him, seeking more cheerful entertain- 
ment. 



Before the huts lay a crescent of sand, hot and 
glistering in the sun of midday ; but beginning to 
be cool in the shadows of the cliffs, as mid-afternoon 
was reached. The waves gently lapped its golden 
floor, inviting the children to wade in their foam, 
to embark upon their bosom. 

Isolate in the waters of the bay, a mile away or 
so, rose a great rock, like a pyramid, and five hun- 
dred feet in height. 




Diamond Rock. 



JOSEPHINE. 41 

"That is 'Diamond Eock,'" said M. Tascher, 
pointing to it : "ia Roche du Diamante. Do not 
you remember, Yeyette, the story of its capture, by 
the Enghsh, some twenty years ago ? When the 
French and Enghsh were at war, and when the 
fleets of both great powers were scouring these seas 
in search of prey, some of our smaller vessels used 
to escape the enemy by sailing between that rock 
and the mainland, thus reaching unharmed the port 
of Fort Royal, which is just behind that promon- 
tory. This occurred so frequently that the British 
commander, Lord Howe, vowed he would stop it, if 
it took all the sailors of his fleet. So he sent a mid- 
shipman there, with a picked body of men, who 
hoisted several guns to the summit of the rock, and 
who, for over a year, commanded the channel. We 
could not dislodge them, the rock is so steep, and 
they annoyed us exceedingly. But finally the Eng- 
lish admiral sailed away and forgot them, and, as 
they were only provisioned for a limited time, they 
capitulated to our commander at the Fort. It is 
said that the rock was entered on the British Ad- 
miralty lists as 'His Majesty's Ship, Diamond- 
Rock,' and its brave defenders rated as the crew of 
a ship-of-war. " 

"Mafoi!^' exclaimed Yeyette, "but they were 
brave men. How I should like to have met them ! 
Cannot we go over to the rock ? " 

"Is it safe, Adee ? Do your boats ever go there ? " 

"Yes, indeed. We can reach it in half an hour. 
Charles, get the canoe." A great canoe, hewn 



42 JOSEPHINE. 

from a huge gommier tree, was quickly brought 
around from the river, and into it they all climbed, 
with cries of joy. Three bronze sailors paddled so 
lustily that they were soon under the lee of the Eock, 
and shortly ashore, in a sheltered rift. There was 
not much to see at the marge, so Yeyette wished to 
climb the narrow path, which wound around the 
cliff like a thread. 

" I don't think it would be safe," said Adee ; " but 
we can go a little way. But have a care, my child ; 
the rock is very steep." 

" Never fear, but follow me," cried Yeyette, and 
she was already a hundred feet up the height before 
her father, who had been hidden behind a project- 
ing rock, saw and shouted to her to descend. 

She laughed and kissed her hand to him, but 
climbed breathlessly on. Half-way up, the trail ab- 
ruptly ended ; the rock had been dislodged in some 
earthquake. The shelf of rock upon which she stood 
was so narrow she could not turn, and glancing 
about her fearfully, she caught sight of the white 
waves, two hundred feet below, snarling at the base 
of the precipice. This sight made her dizzy ; her 
head reeled, she would have fallen, had not Adee, 
who was close behind, quickly caught and steadied 
her. A moment, only, they hung above the white- 
fanged waves, leaping and gnawing at the rocks 
below ; then, held in her nurse's arms, Josephine 
retreated to a broader ledge, where she recovered 
from her fright. 

Sobered by this incident, she descended to join the 



JOSEPHINE. 43 

group below, and her father, having no words with 
which to rebuke her, folded her in his arms. Trem- 
bling in his embrace, her face hidden against his 
shoulder, Josephine then realized what a refuge and 
strength was this grave and tender parent, whose 
love was too deep for words, whose life was devoted 
entirely to her happiness. 

The canotiers bore them swiftly to the beach, 
whence, after a brief tarry for refreshment, the 
planter and his daughters departed for their home. 
The sun had set beneath the waves ere they reached 
the hill-crests above La-Pagerie, and their descent was 
made in the dusk. But the villagers accompanied 
them with torches of fragrant gommier gum, which 
flickered and fitfully illumined the recesses of the 
woods, where the serpents lurked, and from which 
came out heavy perfumes of wild flowers and 
strange nocturnal noises. Old Fou-fou, who had re- 
covered, marched at the head of the company ; the 
weird music of his tamboii throbbed through the 
still air ; as it pulsated, all the night, through Jose- 
phine's journey in dream-land. 



44 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTEE VI. 

LA BELLE CREOLE. 

"Nature, rich and sumptuous, has covered our 
fields with a carpeting, which charms as well by the 
variety of its colors as its objects. She has strewn 
the banks of our rivers with flowers, and has planted 
the freshest forest around our fertile borders. . . I 
love to hide myself in the green woods that skirt our 
dwelling-place. " 

Thus wrote Josephine to a friend of her youth. 
She was unspoiled by society, untouched by the 
vanities of the world. She was a child of nature : 
everything around her, sentient or inanimate, 

contributed to her enjoyment If we were 

to look ahead of our narrative some twenty years, 
and transfer our view to Malmaison, that retreat in 
France to which she hastened at every opportunity 
when she could escape the cares of the court, and 
where she finally passed her closing days, — we 
should find ample evidence that her love for nature 
was yet strong within her. When she went to 
France, either on her first or second voyage, she 
took with her such specimens of the plants around 
La-Pagerie as were endeared to her by the perfumes 
of their flowers, or to which she was attached from 



JOSEPHINE. 45 

sentimental associations. ''The gardens of Mal- 
maison, during her hfetime, resembled a veritable 
Eden. It was her daily habit to visit her exotic 
plants, to watch over and water them ; and these 
she called her ' great family, ' displaying the most 
intimate knowledge of their life, history and names, 
and sometimes playfully rallying the Emperor 
(Napoleon) upon his ignorance of botany." From 
every source, she received presents of rare plants ; 
but that which was particularly endeared to her was 
one she herself had carried to France, — the amaryl- 
lis gigantea, and which attracted great attention, 
from the beauty and fragrance of its flowers. This 
royal plant grew in profusion around La-Pagerie ; 
and a thousand others adorned the slopes of the hills 
and bordered the stream flowing past the sucrerie. 

After her conventual life at Fort Royal, with now 
and then a dip into the placid waters of the society 
gathered at the Capital, her residence at the planta- 
tion might have seemed monotonous ; but there is 
no evidence of this in the imperfect records of this 
period of her youth. Hers was a healthy and excep- 
tionally happy nature, with no craving for what 
was hidden from her view, and no yearning after 
the presumably unattainable. It is in seclusion 
such as that in which her youth was passed, that 
the greatest men and women have been nurtured. 
Nature is a generous mother to those who will but 
cast themselves upon her bosom and imbibe from 
her primeval fonts. Without the distractions 
of the city, with no dissipating demands from 



46 JOSEPHINE. 

society, nature's children devote their time to add- 
ing to their knowledge of the things immediately 
about them, to widening their powers of observa- 
tion, — in truth, to becoming acquainted with the 
great and primal facts, the eternal verities. All 
knowledge is cumulative ; during long centuries, 
nature had been writing her book, for this child to 
read. During generations past and preceding, her 
ancestors had gathered to themselves the best about 
them, and had transmitted to her the increment. 
In her, first, their rich and generous lives found 
expression : Josephine was their Amaranth. It was 
this strong hold on nature, this stability derived from 
a virile ancestry, that enabled Josephine to with- 
stand the assaults of innumerable foes, during the 
period of the Revolution, the Directory, and the Im- 
perial regime. 

At fifteen years of age, Josephine had fulfilled all 
the expectations of those who had watched the bud- 
ding charms of her infancy and childhood. The bud 
had opened into bloom of rarest worth ; the heart of 
the rose was not more sweet and fragrant than her 
fresh loveliness. Like the flowers around her, she 
bloomed for the delectation of those who might be- 
hold her beauty. Like them, also, she was uncon- 
scious of her loveliness, which displayed itself in her 
grace of manner as well as in purehr physical sym- 
metry. 

The slaves were all devoted to her, and vied with 
one another in her praise. ^^ Toujour content, tou 
jour joyeuse,'''' she flitted in and out their humble 



JOSEPHINE. 47 

cabins, an angel of mercy to the old and decrepit, a 
joyous spirit to the young, as well. 

The fame of '^^ 'La Belle Creole,^'' was not confined 
to the island-bounds but extended across the seas, 
to France, where her aunt, Madame Renaudine, re- 
sided, and who insisted that her niece should join 
her there. There is no evidence to show that Jose- 
phine was desirous, at first, of going to France, but 
much to indicate her great unwillingness. Her 
mother, having in mind her future, and knowing 
only too well the terrible cares and responsibilities 
of plantation life, was most favorably impressed 
with the invitation from the aunt, and soon under- 
took to prepare her daughter for the voyage. 

She was not cold nor calculating ; but she may 
have taken heed to the aunt's suggestion that it 
was time for her niece to marry, and that she had 
already selected a worthy companion for her, in the 
person of young Beauharnais. . . The records of the 
parish church of Saint Louis, at Fort Eoyal, show 
that there was baptized there, in June, 1760, an in- 
fant born the month preceding, upon whom was be- 
stowed the name of Alexandre de Beauharnais. 
Josephine's aunt, Madame Renaudine, was this 
infant's godmother, and later, in France, became the 
wife of the Marquis de Beauharnais, the child's 
father. 

The Marquis de Beauharnais, then acting as gov- 
ernor of Martinique, left for France the following 
year, but his son was committed to the charge of 
Josephine's aunt and her grandmother, Madame de 



48 JOSEPHINE. 

La-Pagerie, then residing at Fort Royal. When 
Josephine was attending school at the convent, as 
she passed her nights and some of the holidays with 
her grandmother, she must have heard a great deal 
of the young Alexander ; but never met him, as he 
was sent to France while very young. 

This, then, is the extent of the acquaintanceship 
of these young Creoles, who were later to be joined 
in the bonds of matrimony. 

We will not anticipate the sorrowful days, for 
they came all too soon ; but turn again to the happy 
ones passed at La-Pagerie. Josephine resisted the 
entreaties of her aunt and the disinterested advice 
of her mother for nearly a year, content to dwell with 
her parents, even though thus isolated from the 
world of society. Her life was simple and regulated 
according to the Creole itinerary : in the morning 
the cool bath in the stream ; the forenoon devoted 
to the little duties of the household ; noon to break- 
fast, followed by the siesta ; late afternoon to inter- 
change of visits with the dwellers on neighboring 
estates, and evening to dinner and social recreation, 
such as music, reading, and especially dancing, of 
which Josephine was inordinately fond. 

Although La-Pagerie was almost as secluded as 
the " Happy- Valley " in which dwelt that unhappy 
Prince of Abyssinia, yet, she did not sigh, like Eas- 
selas, for the world outside, nor try to burst its 
rocky bounds. The "Prince" came to the valley, 
though, tradition tells us, and carried away with him 
an ineffaceable impression of her charms. 



JOSEPHINE. 49 

Beneath a precipitous rock rising sheer above 
the stream in the valley above the sucrerie, and 
under the shade of the broad -armed ceiba trees, 
was — still is — the pool in which, every morning, Jo- 
sephine and her maid took their matutinal bath. 
The great rock is masked in vines, from its crevices 
spring out glossy-leaved " fig " trees, and huge wild- 
pines sit astride their limbs, holding within their 
cup-shaped leaves the purest water. From rock to 
ceiba tree stretch the cables and cordage of long 
lianes, these also hung with filamentous ferns and 
rich-hued orchids. Beneath this tent-like canopy, 
purling quietly in the seclusion of this perfumed 
bower, the glassy surface of the pool refiected the 
flower and foliage overhead. No one often disturbed 
the sanctity of this retreat, for it was held as sacred 
to Josephine ; the slaves had been forbidden, under 
severest penalties ; and few strangers ever visited 
the valley. 

Loosely wrapped in their bath-robes, their feet 
thrust into hempen-soled slippers, Josephine and her 
maid tripped gayly up the valley path to the pool, one 
morning in May. The sun was still hidden behind 
the bulk of the gloomy Trochon Peak and the 
valley held the mists as in a cup, level with the tops 
of the hills. The air was sweet with the fragrance 
of the shell-tinted frangipanni, the fiambeau-trees 
flamed in scarlet masses by the river-side; the 
matin music of birds rose from the enveloping 
mists. 

Reaching the pool, they cast aside their wraps, 
4 



50 JOSEPHINE. 

and cautiously ventured into the chill water. Grreat 
bowlders ringed the pool around, but in its center 
was a bed of sand, where the water was about up to 
their shoulders as they stood erect, A group of 
ecrevisse — or crayfish— had gathered here, but at 
sight of the invaders they scampered to the shelters 
of the rocks, whence they peered out sullenly, wrig- 
gling their feelers nervously. One, bolder than the 
rest, sallied forth and nipped the future emjDress' 
little toe, thinking — and rightly — that it was a 
bonne-bouche worth some risk to reach. 

Josephine shrieked and fell into the water, where 
she lay immersed, all but her dainty head, while the 
maid sought out and chased back to his retreat the 
bold freebooter of the stream. 

Floating in ecstatic abandon thus, beneath the 
o'erarching mosaic of flower and leaf, Josephine 
was espied by a diminutive humming-bird, who, 
with shrill chirps of alarm, darted at her face. She 
instinctively shielded her eyes with one hand as he 
flew so swiftly at her ; but he poised himself a foot 
away, a-wing in mid-air, still uttering his angry 
chirps of indignant protest. 

His buzzing wings formed a halo of mist about 
the emerald body, and his pointed helmet gleamed 
like a gem. 

"He must have a nest near," said the maid; 
"yes, there it is, right over your face. Look, and 
there's his little wife, sitting, I dare say, on their 
eggs. " She reached up and drew down a length of 
liane, at which the female darted away, revealing, 



JOSEPHINE, 51 

inside a daint}'' cup of lichen-covered down, two eggs 
as small and white as pearls. 

^'- Pauv^ petit,^'' exclaimed Josephine, as she rose 
to look at them. " Don't touch them, Fifine ; don't 
harm the little darlings. Come, we'll go away ; our 
presence here disturbs these pretty creatures." 

The little husband with the gilded crest had 
perched himself in a loop of liane, where he sat 
watching ; but as Josephine and her companion 
turned towards the bowlder upon which they had 
thrown their robes, he darted before them swift as 
light. His excited manner, his eccentric move- 
ments, and his alarm-cries, attracted their attention. 
Something more than their mere presence had 
caused this sudden change in his behavior. Sud- 
denly he darted downward ; rose, dropped again ; 
his cries were now mingled with another sound, — 
the dreaded hiss of the serpent. 

" Look, Yeyette, there ! close to my robe. Don't 
you see ? Ah, Mon Die ! It is the Fer-de-Lance .'" 

Stunned, stupefied, Josephine saw that terrible 
apparition ; saw its broad fiat head, its darting 
tongue of flame, its slimy folds ; and, overcome with 
the horror of its presence, fainted in her servant's 
arms. 

The maid retreated to the deeper water of the 
pool, supporting her precious burden with difficulty, 
her own limbs benumbed and chilled. 

"Help! help! Come quickly. To the bathing- 
place. The serpent is here. Yeyette has fainted ! " 

She sent her cries out into the morning air ; but 



62 JOSEPHINE. 

at first there was no response. The negroes were 
away in the fields, and M. Tascher had gone to 
Trois-Ilets. 

Meanwhile, tlie gallant humming-bird persisted 
in his attack upon the common foe, with well- 
directed thrusts of his needle-pointed beak. Swift 
as lightning, he returned again and again to the 
attack, blinding the serpent with repeated thrusts, 
like javelins thrown into his eyes, and eluding his 
angry fangs by the dexterity of his movements. 
The humming-bird's attempts at diversion only 
partially succeeded, however ; never for a moment 
did the serpent lose sight of his prospective prey in 
the water. Slowly, yet surely, he glided towards 
the half- fainting Fifine and her unconscious charge. 
"Holy Mother; and the Fer-de-Lance can swim! 
He will surely reach us ; then " 

But there was no retreat ; the great rocks hemmed 
her in ; the serpent was within a dozen feet of her. 
In sheer despair Fifine sent one last cry for help, 
which a mocking echo caught and returned to her. 

But hark ! Was not that an answer ? 

' ' Where are you ? Who is it ? What ? " 

"Here — at the bathing-place. Oh, come at once. 

We are lost ! The serpent " It was already 

entering the water ; slowly each sinuous fold melted 
into the pool ; as if, sure of its victim, the Fer-de- 
Lance wished to prolong the enjoyment of her 
agony. 

There was a sound of approaching footsteps, a 
crashing of the bushes on the brink ; a man's face 



JOSEPHINE. 53 

appeared. In one swift glance its owner took in 
the situation. There was a loud report ; the surface 
of the pool was torn into foam by plunging shot ; 
the serpent lay stretched upon the water, mangled 
and bleeding. Quickly snatching one of the robes 
from the rock, the rescuer plunged into the pool, 
enwrapping the form of Josephine, as the maid's 
nerveless arms relaxed their hold, and bore her to 
the bank. He was about stooping over to chafe her 
hands, when, turning to look back, he saw Filine in 
greater peril. She had fainted at the moment of 
rescue ; the body of the serpent had drifted against 
her breast, — a repulsive object, that slimy, checkered 
skin, against a form as beautiful as Dian's own, 
though golden bronze in hue. It was the work of 
a moment only to draw her from the water, and 
once on the bank her robust constitution asserted 
itself. Her eyelids quivered, a tremulous sigh 
escaped her lips. At the first sign of returning con- 
sciousness, the rescuer desisted from his labors to 
hasten the recovery of her mistress, and withdrew. 
Fifine caught a glimpse of his retreating form, as 
she opened her eyes, but as soon as she was on her 
feet he had disappeared. Forgetting, in the excite- 
ment of that moment, all else than that Yeyette 
was in need of her assistance, she bent all her ener- 
gies to bring her back to life. She was soon re- 
warded. Josephine opened her eyes and looked 
wonderingly about her. Placing a finger warningly 
on her lips, Fifine cautioned her to keep silence, 
standing between her and the pool, where the 



54 JOSEPHINE. 

serpent still floated, that she might have no reminder 
of the dreadful accident. They had barely recovered 
their composure, before Madame Tascher came fly- 
ing towards them, having been sent thither by 
their unknown savior.* 

* The description of the bathing-pool is from the author's notes, 
made in 1878, while on the Sannois estate, and the adventm'e with 
the serpent from tradition, as narrated by a descendant of one of the 
La-Paserie slaves. 




The Anxienne Cuisine. 



JOSEPHINE. 55 



CHAPTEE VII. 

THE PICNIC AT THE CARBET-PEAKS. 

Across the bay of Trois-Ilets, rising in the distance 
high above the wrinkled hills of the coast, rose the 
majestic bulk of the Carbet-Peaks. Its shadow, of 
a morning, traveled across the lowland in advance 
of the rising sun, till it lost itself far out at sea. 
Having climbed above that mountain sentinel, hav- 
ing dissipated the mists of all its valleys and 
penetrated the gloomy gorges that seam its eastern 
slopes, the sun had no other concern with Marti- 
nique, save to diffuse its heat and light all over the 
island. No other obstruction offered to its passage 
across the zenith, and its descent of the western sky, 
until it had buried its glowing face in the far distant 
wave-line of the horizon. 

The highest mountain in the island, itself a con- 
geries of mountains, is Mont-Pelee, 4,500 feet in 
height : a volcano quiescent. Other volcanic peaks 
rise above the line of the mountain-mass, by scores, 
giving that diversified character to the surface which 
distinguishes all the isles of the Caribees, and a 
climate varying with the altitude. From coast to 
mountain-top, the temperature sinks as the traveler 
ascends, until an agreeable mean is found at some 
two thousand feet. 



56 JOSEPHINE. 

Toward the latter part of May, in the year 1YY8, 
the proprietor of La-Pagerie decided to give his 
family the pleasure of a picnic on the slopes of the 
higher hills. The extensive preparations which he 
considered necessary might cause a smile to one at 
the present day, when excursions of a hundred miles 
are taken almost on the spur of the moment ; but 
to the dweller at Trois-Ilets the event was as mo- 
mentous, almost, as a journey to France. A body 
of slaves, the bulk of whom were to have a holiday, 
was sent ahead the day before to clear a trail and a 
space on one of the lateral ridges beneath the well- 
known ' ' maroon-tree. " Another group was detained 
to manage the canoes and carry the equipment of 
the party, while still another was reserved as ham- 
mock-bearers and hostlers. For nearly a week, 
Madame de La-Pagerie had been extremely busy in 
preparing the food for the expedition : in issuing 
invitations to the proprietors of adjacent estates, 
and also to some of the residents of the Fort. At 
last, all was ready : at daylight, the expectant people 
gathered at the shore, transferred themselves to the 
canoes, and set off across the ba}^. All were happy, 
the younger members of the party bubbling over with 
excitement. The French character asserted itself 
in bursts of song, in wild speculation as to the de- 
lights of the unknown hills to which they were going, 
in frolic, jest and repartee. The largest canoe, 
hewn by the labor of M. Tascher's own slaves, from 
a monarch of the mountain -forests, contained the 
La-Pagerie family and that of the proprietor of an 



JOSEPHINE. 67 

estate adjacent to Sannois, an English gentleman of 
means, an exile temporarily from his country, owing 
to his adherence to a defeated cause. 

This gentleman and his wife, who had become 
well-known through their hospitality, shall be dis- 
missed with this passing mention ; but not so their 
son, a young man about two years the senior of 
Josephine, who then appeared to her the embodiment 
of all the manly virtues. Her eyes watched his 
every movement as he assisted the ladies to their 
places in the canoe, and for him she reserved a seat 
by her side, which he appropriated as the canoe was 
pushed off from the shore. And while the gay party 
is being ferried across to the Fort, let us inquire 
why this apparent attachment which leads them to 
prefer their own company to that of the others. 

In a word : this was the young man whose oppor- 
tune arrival at the bath, on that fateful morning 
when the serpent had appeared, had probably saved 
the life of the eldest daughter of La-Pagerie. 

He had modestly withdrawn himself from obser- 
vation, after warning and accompanying Madame 
de La-Pagerie to the pool ; but he could not conceal 
his identity. After Josephine's complete recovery, 
she had sent for him, and had thanked him, with 
all that grace of manner which in after years capt- 
ured the heart of the conqueror of Europe. 

Was it strange that the young man was thence- 
forth her devoted slave, that his heart leaped out to 
meet hers, that love, ardent and irresistible, took 
possession of his being ? And, was it to be wondered 



58 JOSEPHINE. 

at that, viewing him as she did, in the light of a 
rescuer, an interest in him should be awakened that 
might lead to love ? It might be said of her, as has 
been said of one who afterwards shone at her own 
court in France : " The source of her power, as also 
of her weakness, lay in her vast capacity for love." 
It is certain that she viewed him with great favor, 
and that her parents were very anxious to divert 
her from what might become a hopeless passion. 
Both were young, both impressionable, both were 
exteriorly attractive, and both were eager for con- 
genial companionship. 

They had known each other since earliest child- 
hood, but an interval of absence had separated them, 
while he was away in England. His recent return, 
his hunting excursion in the valley of Sannois, 
which had led him to his fate, they could not but 
regard as more than fortuitous. Lovers always 
surround themselves with a cloud of occult reason- 
ing : from the beginning of the world, they have 
been divinely led. 

They did not follow out this mode of reasoning to 
its inevitable ending ; but their parents did. From 
different motives, the parents of each were opposed 
to what apparently would be a desirable match. 
They cast anxious glances at the young couple, 
already oblivious to their surroundings, even un- 
aware that the little god was hovering over them, 
his arrows aimed at their hearts. 

There is no more blissful state than that into 
which Cupid plunges his intended victims : the 



JOSEPHINE. 59 

world contracts, its horizon shuts them in ; they 
two only inhabit this mundane sphere. Josephine's 
lover had already reached the stage of obliviousness 
to surroundings which precedes the last and acute 
stage of intense desire. Their parents resolved to 
nip this would-be blossom in the bud, before it should 
be too late ; but for this day these two were to be 
together. They did not dream of the cruel fate 
provided for them by parental solicitude, but aban- 
doned themselves to the pleasures of the day, and 
of each other's society. 

Fort Eoyal was soon reached, and at the shore 
they found friends to meet them. There was 
Josephine's grandmother, Mme. de La-Pagerie, at 
whose house she always had a second home ; her 
unmarried aunt, Mile. Eosette de La-Pagerie, and 
her father's influential brother, Baron de Tascher, 
known as the Chevalier. He was commander of the 
Fort, then considered one of the most important of 
the French possessions in the New World, and for 
his distinguished services in the army had been 
decorated with the Cross of Saint Louis. 

With them, the party from La-Pagerie had 
brought Josephine's grandmother on the maternal 
side, Madame de Sannois, who was to stay with 
Mme. de La-Pagerie, at the Fort, while the younger 
members were absent in the hills. This old lady was 
the last of the name then resident in the valley of 
Sannois, which had been the dower of her daughter 
on the event of her marriage to M. Tascher, and had 
descended from the first of the name, who had come 



60 JOSEPHINE. 

to Martinique from the island of St. Christopher, 
about the year 1690.* 

Three generations were then present at that 
happy reunion at the Fort. Who could have anti- 
cipated that she who was one of the youngest and at 
that time only distinguished by her gayety and good- 
ness of heart, her happy smile and graceful move- 
ments, was to eclipse the fame of even the Baron 
and Chevalier ? Josephine moved about with a 
smile of greeting for all ; she had many admirers 
and she served them all alike. None had made any 
impression, except it were the young Englishman, 
to whom she was indebted, and towards whom she 
may have been unable to conceal her inclination. 

Hammocks and ponies were in waiting at the Fort, 
and without losing time, as the sun was rising 
above the lower hills, the merry people set off for 
their destination. Three hours of an ascending 
trail finally brought them into the region of the 
" high- woods, " the bois grandes, where the air was 
fresh and cool, and the great trees met and inter- 
laced their giant arms a hundred feet above their 
heads. Eichest tapestry of tropical vegetation lay 
beneath them, covering the hills and slopes ; far 
away gleamed the sea, a sheet of silver, its bur- 
nished surface as yet unruffled by the morning 
breeze. 

The vast fields of golden sugar-cane had yielded 
to the plants of the temperate clime ; in the foot- 
hills clumps of feathery bamboo, like huge plumes, 
* " Histoire de la Martinique.'''' 



JOSEPHINE. 61 

succeeded by the tree-ferns. Cocoa palms, which 
grew everywhere along the coast, disappeared as the 
hills were reached, and their places were supplied 
by the palmiste, gru-gru, and the mountain palm. 
In the high woods grew the immense gommiers, 
twenty feet across, and from which the mountain- 
eers hew out the canoes which they sell to the dwell- 
ers on the coast. The gum of this tree is fragrant, 
and is burnt as incense in the island churches, while 
torches, long flambeaux, are made from it by rolling 
the spicy resin in leaves of the balisier, or wild plant- 
ain. Lianes and bush-ropes netted the high forest 
together, making it impervious to travelers except 
where the trails had been cut, and the lush leaves 
of the orchidaceous plants hung across the path. 
The trail was along the knife-edge of a lateral ridge 
of the Pitons, which finally expanded into a broad 
space at its junction with the main mountain, cov- 
ered with great trees. This miniature plateau was 
some three thousand feet above the sea, and the air 
was cool and sweet. The laborers, who had been 
sent ahead the day before, and who had camped 
here over night, had swept the surface clear of under- 
brush, so that the trunks of the forest giants rose 
through their canopies of leaves, like the groined 
columns of some mighty temple. 

Here the ponies and hammocks dropped their 
burdens, hampers were unpacked, rude tables im- 
provised, broad balisier leaves spread upon the 
ground, where the older members of the party re- 
clined upon blankets, while the younger, after many 



62 JOSEPHINE. 

cautions to beware of serpents and centipedes, ranged 
the plateau. All finall}^ gathered about the tables 
and plantain leaves covered with food and drink, 
where was a "spread" that would have delighted 
the heart of a Lucullus, after such a climb as those 
Creoles had accomplished : all the native viands, 
cooked under the superintendence of Mme. de La- 
Pagerie, added to dainties imported from France. 
Communication with the mother country, though 
frequently interrupted by the English cruisers, in 
war time, was by sailing-vessels, and freights were 
low, so that all the luxuries of France were at the 
doors of Martinique, in exchange for her products 
of sugar, coffee and rum. After the breakfast a 
brief siesta, in hammock and on blanket, and then 
the games began. A smooth space was leveled in 
the center of the clearing and the merry children 
danced till they were tired, which was not till late 
in the afternoon, when the long shadows of the trees 
warned them that it was time to leave. 

Josephine was locally celebrated as the best dancer 
in the canton, and entered into the sports of the 
children with an abandon that was infectious. But, 
early in the afternoon, seeing that William, her 
English lover, was not taking part with esprit, she 
desisted and sought him out, where he was moping 
against a gommier trunk. 

He was not unhappy, as she thought ; his natural 
British heaviness had contrasted so forcibly with the 
French levity that she fancied him miserable, when 
he was only stupid. She did not know then, what 



JOSEPHINE. 63 

some one of her countrymen has since remarked : 
that ''the English take their pleasures sadly." 
William was even then picturing to himself his 
charmer as he had seen her many times in play with 
him, and gloating upon the thought that some day 
she would be his. He awoke from his revery as she 
approached, and they joined in conversation, becom- 
ing so absorbed that they did not at first heed the 
call to horse, and were the last to start. 

Josephine's hammock-bearers were patiently wait- 
ing beneath the maroon-tree, and William's pony 
was pawing the ground not far away. While assist- 
ing her into her hammock, the young man re- 
marked upon the unusual stillness of the air, which 
in the mountains is always astir, moved by vagrant 
breezes from the heated region beneath. The leaves 
of the trees, and even the broad plantain-pennons, 
and the fern fronds were motionless as though held 
by an unseen hand. No sound broke the quietude, 
save the deep diapason of the siffleur montagne, the 
mountain- whistler, far away in a ravine. The hush 
was oppressive, the still atmosphere was almost 
suffocating ; these two felt as though they had been 
left alone in another world than that into which 
they had been born. " AUons,^' said Josephine ; 
"let us goat once, I feel terribly depressed." Giv- 
ing his pony's bridle into the hand of his groom, 
William walked by the side of the hammock, and 
strove by conversation to divert the mind of his 
inamorata from what they felt was an impending 
calamity. 



64 JOSEPHINE. 

It was enough for him that they had been al- 
lowed to have one whole day together ; now let 
come what might, in any event she would be with 
him. For the others had gone on and were already 
far down the mountain-side ; he was her only pro- 
tector. 

At last it came ; what they had dreaded to name, 
but had felt was imminent. A dull, rumbling roar 
beneath their feet, around them ; a convulsion of 
the very earth ; a moaning among the trees : — it 
was the earthquake ! Their attendants fell upon 
their knees, shrieking : " Tremblement-de-terre, trem- 
blement-de-terre, the earthquake ! the earthquake ! " 
That was all ; in that single exclamation was ex- 
pressed the ruin, desolation, and despair attendant 
upon the most dreaded of cataclysms. 

Josephine was thrown forward as the negroes 
fell, but her lover caught and held her in his arms 
before her feet touched the ground. One blissful 
moment he held her, then she gently disengaged 
his arms and stood erect, though trembling, at his 
side. A second shock, still more powerful than the 
first, caused her to clutch his arms with both her 
hands and gaze wistfully into his face. Her eyes 
were wide with fear, her slender form quivering 
with excitement. Never had she looked so nearly 
divine as at that moment ; never had her lover felt 
the impulse so strong within him to clasp her in his 
arms again, and bid the world defiance. But no ; 
he was a Briton, slow but sturdy ; her implied com- 
mands were upon him ; her honor was in his hands. 



JOSEPHINE. 65 

Young as he was, he was held by the traditions of 
his race ; of his ancestry, birth, and breeding. Be- 
tween them, then, was only the unspoken word. 
If he had but strained her to his heart, and whispered 
in her not unwilling ear : "I love you "... Ah, 
William, William ; what a prize you lost by your 
restraint ! But perhaps the world will forgive you 
this timidity ; for had you then spoken, there might 
have been no Josephine, no gracious queen of France 
for the world's worship. 
S 



66 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

FIRST LOVES OP JOSEPHINE. 

The earthquake lasted but a moment ; its effects 
were seen at Fort Royal in fallen walls, demolished 
houses, ruined homes. 

The absence of the lovers had hardly been noticed, 
so overcome were the older people by the greater 
accident. They were merely recognized and as- 
signed their places in the canoe, where they joined 
in the general lamentation, William was uneasy, 
for he felt that, somehow, he had failed in his duty ; 
had neglected the opportunity of his life. He was 
now striving to reconcile his ideas of honor and 
rectitude with his obligation to self and Josephine, 
He had failed, that he perceived, for Josephine was 
now cold towards him, and a rare pout sat en- 
throned upon her pretty lips. 

What had he done ? Nothing. He had not met 
her expectations. It slowly dawned upon him that 
he had acted a man's part undoubtedly, but not a 
lover's. He would amend ; he tried to draw her 
attention ; but it was too late ; the auspicious 
moment had passed ; Josephine was not one to 
thresh over old straw. She could be carried away 
by an impetuous lover, by an ardent one ; later in 



JOSEPHINE. 67 

her life she permitted such a one to marry her, 
whom she at first tolerated, then admired, and 
finally adored. But William was not a Napoleon. 

Her phlegmatic English lover was more constant 
than Napoleon, if we may believe tradition ; she was 
his first love, and his last. For it is related that 
when Josephine lay dying at Malmaison, in the year 
1814, he came to the palace and begged for an inter- 
view, having all those years held her image in his 
heart. The ex-Empress was unable to grant it, and 
died without beholding him ; he expired three days 
later, from the effects of a wound received in 
battle. 

This is the beginning and the end of Josephine's 
first romance. She undoubtedly had an affection 
for this, her first lover, but finally yielded to the 
desires of her parents and dismissed him from her 
thoughts. At all events, William soon went to 
England, and out of her life ; though it is said that 
he wrote her frequently, letters that were inter- 
cepted and never delivered.* 

At first, as we have seen, Josephine turned a deaf 
ear to the urgent entreaties of her aunt, Mme. de 
Eenaudin, to come to her in France ; but after this 
episode she was extremely anxious to go. From 
the letters of the period, still preserved in the ar- 
chives of the La-Pagerie family, we may trace the 
steps that led from this humble home at Sannois, 
direct to the throne of France. 

* Memoirs of Queen Hortense. 



68 JOSEPHINE. 

Many fables have been invented and related of 
the circumstances that led to the marriage of our 
heroine with Alexandre de Beauharnais ; but not 
one surpasses in interest and romance the actual 
story as told by the actors in this drama themselves. 
It has been charged that the marriage was brought 
about by the ambitious aunt of Josephine, solely 
through her intrigues with the Marquis de Beau- 
harnais, the elder. This assertion is directly con- 
tradicted by the facts, as shown in the letter of the 
Marquis, in the year 1Y78, to Mme. de La-Pagerie, 
asking the hand of his daughter for his son Alexan- 
der, who was in this instance his father's secretary. 
He opens by declaring his great desire to give unequi- 
vocal proof of the esteem in which he holds their 
acquaintance, and adds : " My children possess ample 
incomes, each one inheriting some 40, 000 livres per 
year, and it rests with you, my dear friend, whether 
one of your daughters may not share that of my 
Chevalier. The respect and attachment he feels for 
Madame de Renaudin, impels him most ardently 
to desire union with one of her nieces. He seems to 
think that the second (Desiree) would be of the 
age most suitable for him. 

'' I myself regret that your eldest daughter (Jose- 
phine) is not some years younger, as she certainly 
should have the preference ; but I must confess to 
you, that there seems to me too little difference be- 
tween her age, fifteen and a half, and my son's, 
which is only seventeen. However, this is one of 
those occasions in which the feelings of a parent must 



JOSEPHINE. 69 

yield to circumstances." The Marquis then goes on 
to declare that his son possesses all the engaging 
qualities necessary to make a woman happy, and as- 
sures his friend that he does not expect a dot with his 
daughter, as the Chevalier is already well provided 
for, with his 40,000 livres, inherited from the mater- 
nal side, and the 25,000 more which he is to expect 
from himself. He then urges the father to send his 
daughter to France with the utmost despatch — le 
plus tot possible. — " You owe me this pledge of friend- 
ship," he concludes ; and adds, in case he cannot 
himself accompauj^ her, to entrust her to some trust- 
worthy person ; but not by any means to send her by 
a ship of war, as she would be far more comfortable 
in a merchant packet. 

The Marquis also wrote the mother at the same 
time, repeating his offer to the father ; and, as 
though sensible that it was an unusual proceeding 
to ask the hand of a younger daughter while the 
elder was still unmarried, he adds : ' ' Not that any 
one has said any but agreeable things of the elder ; 
but we fear she is too old, relatively to my son's 
age. . . . He is well worthy your regard, madame ; 
and if, as I expect, mademoiselle, your daughter — of 
whom I have received such charming portraits — re- 
sembles 3^ou, my dear madame, then I shall have no 
fear for the happiness of my son." 

He is not content with this, but even writes the 
grandmother at Fort Eoyal, and also the uncle, the 
Chevalier Tascher de La-Pagerie, to use their in- 
fluence. "Use all your efforts, my dear Baron, to 



70 JOSEPHHSTE. 

induce your brother and sister-in-law to send their 
second daughter to France." Mme. Eenaudin joins 
with him in urging forward the prospective union, 
and, in order that it might not be said that her niece 
had made the voyage to France in order to get 
married, solely, she advised her parents to give out 
that she was going to complete her education. She 
draws a flattering portrait of Alexander, declaring 
that it would be impossible for her to eulogize him 
beyond his deserts, with his handsome face, fine 
figure, lively disposition, love for science, and, above 
all, " the beautiful qualities, of soul and heart, in him 
so blended that no one knows him but to love." 
There is no doubt of the affection existing between 
Mme. de Eenaudin and her god-son ; she had watched 
over him since his earliest youth. The aunt, like- 
wise, anticipating the very natural desire of her 
brother's family to see Josephine settled in advance 
of her sisters, alludes to the regret of the Marquis 
that the eldest daughter is not at least three years 
younger than Alexander. '' But then, you know," 
she concludes, ' ' this will not be the first instance 
of a younger sister being established before the elder. 
And, since the age of the younger is so advan- 
tageous, we cannot but believe that Heaven has so 
ordered it." 

Meanwhile, what had happened in Martinique ? 
Communication between the island-colonies and the 
mother country was slow and uncertain ; the direst 
of events had taken place. Heaven had not so or- 
dered it, apparently, for a week before that letter 



JOSEPHINE. 71 

was written, Desiree, the object of her aunt's soHci- 
tude, had expired. The message did not, however, 
reach its destination till early in December, thus 
only renewing the grief of the afflicted family. 
Writing on the 9th of January, 1778, M. de La- 
Pagerie sadly replies : — "A malignant fever carried 
off our dear Desiree, on the 16th of October last, at 
the very moment you were thinking of her happi- 
ness. " * 

He feels very grateful to the Marquis for his ex- 
pression of confidence, and this renewed assurance 
of his esteem ; and, as it was quite evidently his de- 
sire to unite the two families by marriage, with- 
out an expressed predilection for any one of his 
daughters, he (M. Tascher) takes the liberty to sub- 
mit that the third, and youngest, might be found 
available. This one was Marie-Fran^oise, called by 
the family "Manette." "She is now," he wrote, 
" eleven and a half years of age ; of a gay and lively 
disposition, naif and sensible. She promises well 
as to face and figure, — and education will do the 
rest." 

He writes that he had great difficulty in inducing 
her and her mother to consent to the separation, but 
it had finally been done, and he would sail with her 
in April or May. 

It seems only natural that the eldest daughter 
should have felt the slight thus put upon her, and 
she doubtless so expressed herself, for the father ex- 

* Archives de Famille. 



72 JOSEPHINE. 

plains to Mme. de Renaudin : — " The eldest, you are 
aware, has been home from the convent for some 
time, and, as she has frequently desired me to take 
her to France, she will be, I fear, a little put out by 
your evident preference for the younger. . . , She 
has a very lovely complexion, beautiful eyes, hand- 
some arms, a shapely figure, and a remarkable apti- 
tude for music. . . , 

' ' I furnished her with a teacher of the guitar, while 
she was in the convent, and she profited well by her 
lessons, and has a very charming voice. It is a pity 
that she cannot be sent to France to complete her 
education, so well begun ; and if it were only in my 
power, I would send the two together. But, how 
can I separate a mother from the two remaining 
daughters, so soon after the third has been snatched 
from her by death ? " This letter was written from 
St. Lucia, where Mr. Tascher had a plantation. 

It was immediately answered by the aunt, who 
wrote — after consulting with the Marquis — under 
date of 11th March, 1Y78 :— 

'' Come to us, my dear brother ; come, with one of 
your daughters, or with two : — whatever you do we 
shall find agreeable ; and we shall not doubt you will 
be guided by Providence, who knows better than we 
what is best for us. . . . You are acquainted with 
our sincere desires : we wish for one of your daugh- 
ters (which one did not seem to matter). The Cav- 
alier deserves to be made perfectly happy, and you 
alone, perhaps, are the one best able to declare which 



JOSEPHINE. 73 

one possesses the requisite qualities. ... So act 
accordingly." 

Meanwhile, there was trouble in the Tascher fam- 
ily, for the youngest daughter, backed in her oppo- 
sition by her mother and her grandmother, declared 
she would not take the voyage to France, even if she 
never had a husband. The father, who seems to 
have been an honest, though henpecked husband, 
was distracted, as between his duty and desires. He 
wrote Mme. Eenaudin again, before definitely decid- 
ing upon which daughter to send, under date of June 
24:th, 17Y8 : "You know, my dear sister, the blind 
devotion of most of our Creole mothers for their 
children. ... In short, not only is Manette opposed 
to the voyage, but her mother and grandmother, — 
and you know what that means ! ... If I had but the 
means, I would start immediately, with the eldest, 
who not only wishes to see la belle France, but is con- 
sumed with a desire to see her dear aunt. Only two 
things prevent me : a lack of means and the fact that 
she was fifteen years old yesterday. She is likewise 
well-developed for her age ; indeed, for the last five 
or six months has seemed to be nearer eighteen than 
fifteen. She has, as I have written you, a happy dis- 
position ; plays a little on the guitar, has a good 
voice, and a liking for music, in which she will some- 
time become proficient. But, alas, I fear she will not 
fulfill your expectations, on account of the objection 
you have to her age." In this tenor also he wrote 
the Marquis, realizing that his was a most embar- 



74 JOSEPHINE. 

rassing position. He did not wish to let pass such 
an opportunity for an alliance with so distinguished 
a family — as he frankly admitted — yet he hesitated 
to recommend without qualification the eldest 
daughter ; though her only defect was on account of 
her age ; which was, in his opinion, more than 
counterbalanced by her numerous good qualities. 
To this effect he wrote the Marquis, who replied, as 
the aunt had done, that he would not assume to de- 
cide ; so it be one of the daughters, he would be sat- 
isfied. But he hoped his old friend would come 
soon ; and whichever one he brought should also be 
their choice. 

Alexander, who was then absent with his regi- 
ment, was acquainted with the bizarre condition of 
affairs, and immediately responded that he readily 
accepted the exchange, having had a preference for 
the eldest all along. He expressed himself satisfied 
with whatever arrangement should be made, and, 
though he did not allow thoughts of his prospective 
bride to distract him from his duties, was somewhat 
disappointed that Josephine herself had not arrived, 
instead of a letter. He did not doubt he should like 
her. " The great attachment she has for her aunt, 
and her strong desire to be with her, inclines me in 
her favor. . . I trust, my dear papa, that you have 
already urged M. de La-Pagerie to send us his eldest 
daughter, whom we have always more ardently 
desired than the youngest." 

This the Marquis probably did, for in a letter of 
9th September, 1778, he complimented the planter 



\ 
V 




# 



JOSEPHINE. 75 

upon his decision, and assured him that they were 
already looking forward with impatience to their 
arrival, and the day they landed in France would 
be the happiest of their lives. With the consent of 
his son, he sent to Martinique authority to publish 
there the banns with whomsoever should be selected, 
leaving a blank space for the name ; an unusual 
mark of confidence in the integrity of his old friend 
and companion-in-arms. 

By the same packet, the aunt wrote her brother 
saying how happy they had been siDce the un- 
certainty was removed, and that she only hoped 
that Manette would be able to obtain such a fine 
parti as her sister. She felt more than sure that 
her sister in-law, Mme. de La-Pagerie, would some 
day thank her for having secured for her such a 
desirable son-in-law. She assured her brother that 
M. de Beauharnais was exceedingly impatient to 
embrace him and his daughter. " Alas, if I could 
only fly to you. , . . Adieu, my dear brother ; 
adieu. But come, come ! Your dear sister implores 
you." 

Thus it was decided : the eldest daughter, Jose- 
phine, was to be sent to France in search of a hus- 
band. JSTo, not in search of one ; he was already 
burning with impatience to embrace her. She was 
his bride, in fact, before she left the soil of Mar- 
tinique. Her name had been inserted in the blank 
space on the banns, and had been proclaimed. 

This may be new, at least to English readers ; but 
the truth of this statement has been established by 



76 JOSEPHINE. 

the letters from which we have quoted ; the actors in 
this strange drama have told their own story.* 

But how was the news received at Sannois La- 
Pagerie ? Outside the family, among the slaves, 
there was bitter lamentation ; for all felt for Jose- 
phine a love approaching reverence. The sad in- 
telligence reached the little hamlet where her old 
nurse, Adee, dwelt by the shore. She at once 
hastened to her own " Yeyette," big with the impor- 
tance of a message. She had consulted the Carib 
sibyl ; more than that, she had studied the flight of 
the Diahlotins ; ''and from their flight strange 
auguries she drew." 

" Yeyette-moi, don't go ; you must not. Look, I 
have read the Devil-bird's message, it is this : ' Be- 
ware of the sea.' Again and again, in their flights 
around the Diamond, they have confirmed it. And, 
besides, don't you remember the sibyl's warning ? — 
Vous serez Beine de France ; vous aurez de belles 
annees ; mats (0, see the warning here), vous periez 
dans une Smeute. " f 

* Verified by the biographer of Josephine, who consulted the 
letters in the family archives, which were freely placed at his dis- 
posal. 

f Local tradition. 



JOSEPHINE. 77 



CHAPTEE IX. 

THE VOYAGE TO FRANCE. 

Although every member of the La-Pagerie family 
was sensible of the great advantage of this pro- 
jected alliance with the house of Beauharnais, and 
Josephine herself was extremely anxious to visit 
the mother-country, yet, when the time came to say 
adieu to her mother, her friends, and her dear 
Martinique, she hesitated. Again, since the month 
of March, 1778, when news of the treaty signed 
between France and America had been received, a 
sea-voyage was considered very unsafe. It was in 
February of that year that our commissioners, 
Franklin, Lee and Deane, had concluded the negotia- 
tions which resulted in a treaty of alliance, com- 
merce, and amity with the French nation. Since 
then, war had existed between the mother-country 
and England ; English cruisers swept the seas, 
English war-ships menaced Martinique. M. Tascher 
would not take upon himself any further responsi- 
bility, in view of the opposition he had encountered 
from the mother and grandmother, and, unless 
passage could be found in a convoyed packet, or 
neutral vessel, refused to make the voyage. Thus 
nearly a year passed away, during which the family 
was torn with anxiety, and the aunt, Mme. de 



78 JOSEPHINE. 

Eenaudin, harassed with the fear that the Beau- 
harnais might change their opinion, or the young 
man's ardor might cool. Meanwhile, although her 
brother assured her that he was sincerely seeking 
an opportunity, it was late in the year 1779 before 
she had definite news of his sailing. 

Scarcely a month passed that did not leave with 
its departure some impressive reminder of the 
possible dangers of that sea-voyage. One morning 
in April, the peace of the valley of Sannois was dis- 
turbed by the boom of heavy guns. Hastening to 
the hill overlooking the sucrerie Josephine and her 
father saw, dim in the distance, the ghost-like out- 
lines of several immense warships, wrapped in the 
smoke from their own guns. The terrible Rodney 
had come, as he had threatened, to reduce the 
rebellious islands to submission. Seventeen years 
had passed since his first appearance here, when his 
sailors and marines had assisted at the reduction of 
Fort Royal, and when he had also conquered the 
islands of St. Lucia and Granada. He had since 
become the scourge of the French naval marine ; 
his name was in every mouth. The French fleet 
concentrated at Fort Royal had sailed out to give 
him battle. The result was indecisive, though the 
English fleet was driven away for the time ; but the 
action, within view of these interested spectators, 
who had so much at stake in the outcome of the 
war, only emphasized the dangers of a voyage across 
the Atlantic* 

* See Appendix (4). 



JOSEPHINE. 79 

" It must not be, Yeyette ; the risks are too great, 
the dangers too many." 

' ' As you say, my dear papa ; I am content. France 
attracts me, and to see Paris has been the dream of 
my life ; but I am happy here. " 

"I believe you could be, my daughter ; you have 
always been a good and dutiful child. But, again, 
I desire to secure for you a future of at least some 
promise. Here there is absolutely nothing ahead. 
See, how have I worked all these years ; your 
mother has devoted her life to her duties and our 
welfare ; yet, what have we now ? Less than when 
we began. Only last year, forty of our slaves 
died, from the fever and the serpents. I myself 
am broken, despairing ; every earthquake, every 
hurricane, leaves us a little poorer, less hope- 
ful." 

"Mon cher pajDa ! And yet he would send me 
from him ! His oldest daughter ; the only ' son ' he 
has. Would that I were in truth a son, able to help 
you in the fields. If I were only Joseph, — as you 
named me, instead of Josephine ! Alas, woman can 
do so little that is worth the while ! But, at least, I 
can stay with you, I will not desert you." 

"No, Yeyette, it is better that you go to France ; 
there will you find a greater future. Your aunt 
will leave you her heir, even if nothing comes of 
this projected union. Yes, you can help me better 
there." 

There were distractions enough now at Fort Royal, 
for all the French fleets rendezvoused there on their 



80 JOSEPHINE. 

way to America. In 1TY9, arrived the gallant Count 
De Grasse, chief of the squadron that sailed from 
Brest to join at Martinique the fleet of Comte 
d'Estaing. The fort was the gayest place, perhaps, 
in the colonies, and Josephine, as the niece of the 
commandant, Baron de Tascher, and one of the 
prettiest young ladies of the place, was the object of 
many attentions. 

At Brest, whence the fleet had sailed, was her 
betrothed, and it is possible that she received news 
of him from the officers, who must have envied the 
Chevalier his good fortune. But they passed on, 
gay and gallant Frenchmen ; sailed out of her vision 
into the horizon, towards America, where they so 
materially assisted our forefathers at Savannah, and 
contributed later towards the downfall of Corn- 
wallis. They sailed on into illimitable space ; some 
of them returned after the Eevolution was over ; 
but many of them are still sailing, sailing, through 
the voids of the century past. 

The household returned to its wonted vocations ; 
the ladies acted as mediators between the lord of the 
estate, who was master absolute over his slaves, and 
the negroes. Josephine, made sad and thoughtful 
by her recent experiences, was to the slaves a ver- 
itable Lady Bountiful ; she passed her time in deeds 
of charity, and doubtless then acquired that angelic 
disposition for which her name is even yet a popular 
synonym. The ladies of La-Pagerie were celebrated 
for their care of the slaves, exercising a super- 
vision over them from the time of birth, teaching 



JOSEPHINE. 81 

them the catechism, heahng their wounds, inter- 
ceding for them when threatened with punish- 
ment, at once protectors, instructors, and sisters of 
charity. 

Josephine might be seen at this time, clad in cool 
white muslin, a gay Madras handkerchief about 
her head, swinging in a hammock of silk grass, or 
the center of an admiring group of negroes, joining 
in the dance to the music of the tambou, at evening 
by the light of the flambeaux, or beneath the 
brilliant tropical moon. 

But this life of mingled care and gayety could not 
go on forever. M. Tascher was not unmindful of his 
promise to the Marquis. Ever watchful for an 
opportunity to redeem that promise, he at last found 
passage in a convoyed ship, " La Pomone,'^ which 
sailed for France in September. 

In France, we might have found the parties in- 
terested in this voyage as anxious as the voyagers 
themselves. Tired of garrison gallantries, at last, 
the Chevalier was anxiously inquiring for the news 
from Martinique. During the month of August not 
a word, but on the fifth of September he wrote his 
father that he had received secret information of a 
convoy about to sail from that island. And he had 
a presentiment that his intended bride would come 
at that time, and was all impatience. More than a 
month passed, however, without further news, but 
the last of October, Mme. de Eenaudin received a 
letter from her brother, dated the twentieth of that 

month, by which she learned that he had arrived at 
6 



82 JOSEPHINE. 

Brest, together with their sister, Mile. Rosette de 
La-Pagerie, and his eldest daughter. 



That same year, 1779, there arrived at another 
point on the coast of France, coming from another 
island-colony of that country, the one who later 
raised to such a height of power and prosperity this 
unknown girl, Mile. Josephine de La-Pagerie. . . . 

Meanwhile, at receipt of the news from Brest, 
Mme. de Renaudin and the young Alexander hast- 
ened to join the La-Pageries. Hearing that M. 
Tascher was very ill from an old wound or malady, 
aggravated by the long and tempestuous sea- voyage, 
the Chevalier, with rare thoughtfulness, hurried on 
in advance, in order to ascertain how seriously he 
was affected, and if necessary to prepare his god- 
mother for any shock. 

He had also arranged with one of his comrades at 
Brest to send him an express, if M. Tascher should 
be critically ill ; but all these precautions were un- 
necessary, for he was found to be in better health 
than they had expected from the reports. 

About the twenty-eighth of October, in a letter to 
his father, he details the condition of affairs, and 
gives a hint of the impression made upon him by the 
young Creole. 

" You will pardon me for not writing sooner, but 
since our arrival here I have hardly had a moment 
to myself. . . . Our departure is now fixed for 
Tuesday next. I need not assure you that we are 



JOSEPHINE. 83 

all impatient to be near you. . . . Mile, de La- 
Pagerie, who is as anxious to see you as the rest of 
us, you will perhaps find less pretty than you had 
expected, but her modesty and sweetness of character 
surpass anything that has been told you. ... I 
found, to my disgust, that all the town seemed to 
have been informed of the nature of our errand, 
which I had thought a secret, but, though I am 
compelled to blush, sometimes, at the compliments 
thrust upon me, still I find some satisfaction in the 
flattering marks of attachment from my comrades, 
and their lively interest in my welfare. ..." 

Thus, though somewhat disappointed at the first 
glimpse of his bride, the Chevalier was, on the whole, 
disposed to make the best of affairs. 

A few days later, while en-route, Mme. de 
Eenaudin wrote the Marquis assuring him, upon her 
sacred word, that Josephine would not disappoint 
him in any respect. . . . ^' Sera voire chere et 
tendre fille, c'est moi qui vous en assure.^' She 
possessed all the beautiful qualities essential to the 
happiness of the Chevalier. And as to the latter : 
"He begs me to embrace you for him, and not to 
take it ill that he does not write to-day ; for he is so 
well engaged that he cannot. Yes, my good friend, 
he is very much occupied at present, very much 
absorbed, with your future daughter-in-law." 

The recreant Alexander does add a line, however, 
to the effect that he finds the company of his 
father's future daughter so sweet that this must be 



84 JOSEPHINE. 

the explanation of his silence. He expresses the 
great desire they both feel to be near him, and the 
hope that the Marquis is looking forward to em- 
bracing both his children when they arrive. So it 
seems that Alexander had lost little time in his love- 
making. He had the advantage of position, of 
education, of experience in the gallantries of the day ; 
against these qualifications Josephine had nothing 
to oppose except her own native charms. He was 
not at first attracted by her ; but within three days 
she had won him, in spite of himself. The under- 
standing is complete between these two children, 
brought together across so many leagues of sea, 
destined for each other by the machinations of two 
intriguing relatives. Alexander had been pre- 
disposed to the match, from the representations of 
his godmother, whom he devotedly loved, and his 
father, whom he reverenced. It does nat seem to 
have occurred to him to combat their wishes, and 
so he at once set himself to the task of liking this 
young Creole, as soon as she arrived. Josephine, 
as we have seen, was equally complaisant. ' ' To love 
was one of the necessities of her being," It does 
not appear that she had ever had any one upon 
whom to lavish the wealth of affection with which 
nature had endowed her. Her father and mother 
were always occupied in the cares of the estate ; her 
servants, her maids, however much she may have 
been attached to them, were not suitable subjects 
for a reciprocal affection that could attain to the 
dignity of a passion. 



JOSEPHINE. 85 

Modest, retiring, but never coy nor shy, Josephine 
had freely accepted the Chevalier's advances, and 
within a few days had enmeshed him in his own net. 
He was captured by that nameless charm, by the 
infinite grace and sweetness, in her so harmoniously 
and ravishingly blended. Never, at her best estate, 
has Josephine been declared beautiful, but universal 
testimony has been recorded from the mouths of 
plebeians as well as princes, that she was ever 
gracious and winning. 

Josephine, although developed physically beyond 
her years, was still a child at heart and in the sim- 
plicity of her manners. It is said that she and her 
young companion took their dolls with them on the 
voyage and played with them throughout the long 
and dreary days. The Chevalier rallied her upon 
this, but she replied sweetly enough, and he rather 
congratulated himself that she had no more harmful 
acquaintances. He found her ''heart-whole and 
fancy free," at all events ; and he delighted in the 
reflection that she was to be his, his own, without 
the shadow of a rival to arouse his jealousy. 

They reached Paris about the tenth of November, 
where they were met by the Marquis, who, from the 
very first, attached himself to Josephine as if she 
were his own daughter ; and she reciprocated this 
affection with a loyal devotion. 

Since everything seemed propitious for an imme- 
diate marriage, the desires of young Alexander were 
acceded to and preparations at once commenced. 
Mme, de Eenaudin the more readily consented, as 



86 JOSEPHINE. 

she feared a possible miscarriage of her dearly cher- 
ished plans, and saw that the young people were 
so evidently attracted to each other. She generously 
furnished her niece with a trousseau costing 20,000 
francs, and insisted that the ceremony should he 
performed at her country house at Noisy, in order 
to avoid the publicity and confusion attendant upon 
a wedding in the capital. The ceremony was fixed 
for the thirteenth of December ; but several days be- 
fore it took place, M. Tascher de La-Pagerie, who was 
suffering from a relapse of his malady, was obliged 
to delegate his authority to the Abbe Louis Samuel 
de Tascher, a doctor of Sorbonne, and the most dis- 
tinguished representative of the family in France. 

In the presence of the Abbe, of Mme. de Eenaudin 
(who filled the place of mother to her niece) of the 
Marquis de Beauharnais, Count Claude, his brother, 
and several other reputable witnesses. Mile. Jose- 
phine de La-Pagerie and Alexander de Beauharnais 
were made one, in the Church of Noisy-le-Grand. 

'' And so they were married." "Were they mated ? 
Does any one whisper of love f Perhaps ; the aunt 
and the father may have cherished the delusion for 
awhile. But, it was as purely a mariage de conve- 
nance as any that has ever been arranged since it 
became the custom to marry and be given in mar- 
riage. 

Their interest in each other had been awakened 
by the representations of their friends, stimulated 
by the romantic manner of their betrothal, and 
propinquity had done the rest. 



JOSEPHINE. 87 



CHAPTER X. 

THE BRIDE OF BEAUHARNAIS. 

This venture in matrimony of a young man of 
nineteen and a girl of sixteen was at the outset fe- 
licitous. The first year passed away very happily, 
and the young bride, diverted by the attractions of 
gay Paris, was the petted idol of the Vicomte's 
relatives, who were numerous and attentive. She 
did not altogether like the transition from the free 
life of Sannois to the artificial state of existence she 
was obliged to lead in France, and has left on record 
her protest against the paints and perfumes, and the 
heavy clothing with enormous hoops, ''which would 
not permit the wearer to pass straight through a 
doorway." In the summer the young pair resided 
at Noisy-le- Grand, with Mme. de Renaudin, and in 
the winter at the hotel of the Marquis, in the Rue 
Thevenot. We have seen what were the influences 
that surrounded and shaped her, during the form- 
ative period of her character ; it will now be shown 
how she developed, from a Creole provincial, with 
no education save that furnished in an obscure con- 
vent, into one of the most polished and accomplished 
ladies of the timie. In the first place, she possessed 
infinite tact and perception of the proprieties. She 



88 JOSEPHINE. 

was constantly surrounded by members of the aris- 
tocracy, who had received their education in the 
most approved schools of society. One who was of 
the greatest service to her, and who became her 
most affectionate friend and adviser, was Mme. 
Fanny de Beauharnais, wife of Alexander's uncle, 
the Count Claude. Born of wealthy parents, at 
Paris, in 1Y38, she had received a brilliant education 
and had displayed precocious talents, writing verses 
at the age of ten, and applauded by the literary 
celebrities of the day. Married at the age of fifteen, 
she procured a separation from her husband a few 
years later, and abandoned herself to literary pursuits, 
her salon in the city and at Fontainebleau becoming 
the favorite resort of the distinguished men and 
women of the day. She displayed a deep interest in 
Josephine, who through her was initiated into the 
mysteries of literary Paris, though she may not 
have read all her books. She was cultured and re- 
fined, whatever may have been her morals, and she 
exercised a great influence, and in the right direction, 
upon the wife of her nephew. Another lady with 
whom she became intimate, and who was a frequent 
visitor to the family, was Mme. de La Rochefou- 
cauld, a relative of Alexander's and Mme. de Rohan 
Chabot-Leon nee Elizabeth de Montmorency. The 
establishment of the Marquis was worthy his rank, 
and among the numerous and brilliant salons open 
to the young vicountess was that of Madame de 
Montesson, the morganatic wife of the Due d'Or- 
leans, where Josephine first met Mme. de Genlis, 



JOSEPHINE. 89 

and where were assembled all the grand society 
dames of the time. It is true that the name of the 
Vicomtesse de Beauharnais is not inscribed upon 
the official lists of the receptions at the Court ; but 
it is difficult to believe that she was not received, as 
she was fully entitled to that honor by birth and 
marriage. It is known that her husband was one 
of the most welcome of the cavaliers at the Queen's 
receptions, and she had bestowed upon him the title 
of the beau danseur of the Court. She was pri- 
vately received by Marie Antoinette, however, and 
this made amends for a public presentation. Her 
staunchest friend and mentor was the aunt who had 
been instrumental in bringing her to Paris, and 
consummated her marriage with the Chevalier. 
Mme. de Eenaudin, a native of Martinique, had 
come to Paris in 1760, had secured a separation 
from her husband, on the basis of incompatibility 
and brutality, and was then living at ease upon the 
alimony granted her, and a large private fortune. 
At first, under the protection of the Marquis de Beau- 
harnais and his wife, after the latter had left France, 
she entered into an amorous attachment with the 
former, and late in life they were married. She 
maintained a separate establishment at Noisy, but 
appears to have resided in or near the household of 
the Marquis, rue Thevenot, in the winter season. 

She was godmother to Alexander, to whom she 
was most tenderly attached, and filled a mother's 
place in the heart of Josephine. Notwithstanding 
her equivocal relations with the old Marquis, her 



90 JOSEPHINE, 

family seem to have held her in esteem, and her 
letters show her to have possessed many admirable 
qualities of head and heart. Her brothers corre- 
sponded with her regularly, and in one of the early 
letters sent to her from the Baron is a confidential 
description of his sweetheart, to whom he was 
afterwards married. One cannot but wish that the 
young Alexander could have found it in his heart to 
detail the charms of his fiancee with such enthu- 
siasm and minuteness : "She has such a beautiful 
complexion, such lovely eyes, so pretty a mouth, so 
divine a figure, the whole forming a most ravishing 
ensemble, that I am more than charmed." 

Under the tutelage and instruction of her aunt, 
whose twenty years in Paris had made a perfect Pari- 
sian, Josephine applied herself most assiduously to 
acquire that superficial knowledge which passes 
current in the world of society, and that polish of 
manner which glosses over many defects. She 
possessed natural tact and aptitude, and above all a 
good heart, which is at the basis of good manners. 
Doubtless she had more amiable qualities of heart 
than knowledge of science, literature or art ; but 
with what success she applied herself, her subsequent 
career, as wife of the First Consul and as Empress of 
the French, abundantly testifies. During the first 
few months of their marriage the Chevalier devoted 
himself to his wife with commendable zeal for her 
happiness, and she returned his attentions with 
affection. She was sincerely attached to the Vis- 
count, for her heart felt the need of some one to 



JOSEPHINE, 91 

love, and all her thoughts centered in him. She 
was young and inexperienced ; he was also young, 
but ardent, ambitious, impatient of restraint. 
Soon he began to assume an attitude towards her 
which did not fail to produce its effect : that of 
master and mentor. 

He had received a more complete education, was 
more in touch with the world than she, with her 
Creole manners and provincial teaching, and soon 
assumed an air of superiority which was galling, 
even to the amiable Josephine. Thus their estrange- 
ment began : the novelty having worn off, the 
eyes of this mercurial Alexander were opened to his 
true position as the husband of one whom he had 
espoused more through deference to his father and 
godmother than from actual affection. He taunted 
her with the fact that she was merely a demoiselle 
educated in a colonial convent, and brought up by a 
mother and godmother noted only for their domes- 
tic virtues. 

Two years after their marriage their domestic re- 
lations were strained to the point of open rupture, 
and the father and aunt, hesitating to intervene 
openly, solicited the services of Alexander's old tutor, 
M. Patricol, to whom he was very much attached. 
This gentleman held a long conversation with the 
Viscount, then absent from Paris with his regiment, 
who frankly stated the reasons for his conduct. In 
effect, he said : he had thought at first he could be 
able to live happily with Mile, de La-Pagerie, not- 
withstanding the defects of her early education, and 



92 JOSEPHINE. 

had set himself zealously at work to amend the 
neglect of the first fifteen years of her life. But, 
shortly after their union, he had found in her a lack 
of confidence, an unreadiness to lend herself to his 
guidance, which had chilled his ardor, and perhaps 
his affection. Her total indifference to his plans for 
her improvement had caused him to renounce them 
forever, and in place of spending his time at home, 
as he had originally contemplated, vis-a-vis with 
one who scarcely ever addressed him, he had tired 
of this monotonous existence, and had returned to 
the more congenial atmosphere of the garrison 
In short, it was the same old story : Mr. Young- 
husband, surfeited with the sweets of domesticity, 
balked in his efforts to attain the unattainable, and 
hankering after the forbidden pleasures of his bach- 
elor life, withal, would saddle upon the wife all the 
responsibility for his peccadilloes. 

His letters of this period are full of advice as to 
her studies and her behavior. It would seem, from 
her own letters, that Josephine's education was by 
no means inferior to that of the ladies of her time. 
Her epistolary style was correct and yet simple, she 
had made good progress in drawing and music, and 
had early exchanged her guitar for a more fashion- 
able harp. But she was extremely averse to severe 
mental effort and, though she may have appreciated 
her husband's scheme of studies, was utterly inca- 
pable of traveling in the path he had marked out. 
With a Creole's dislike for schools and continued 
application, she preferred the easier method of 



JOSEPHINE. 93 

unconscious absorption through the medium of her 
environment. 

A temporary reconciliation was brought about, 
through the intervention of their friends, shortly be- 
fore the birth of their first child (Eugene, subse- 
quently viceroy of Italy), on the third of September, 
1781. But even the delights of paternity, as well as 
the entreaties of his wife, were unavailing to re- 
strain him from returning to garrison life. He had 
tasted freedom, and he wished to pursue it further. 
One of his charges against his wife was, that she 
had become jealous and petulant ; but after this 
practical abandonment of her and his heir she re- 
signed herself to the care of her infant, finding in 
his innocent companionship and caresses a solace for 
her grief. 

It was thought that extended travel might dis- 
tract his attention and absence renew his affection 
for his wife, and in November, the Viscount obtained 
leave of absence from his regiment and took a jour- 
ney into Italy, going to Genoa and thence to Eome. 
Writing from Genoa, in the latter part of 1781, he 
mentions having been presented to the Doge, by 
whom he was politely received, and who gave him 
agreeable news of Lord Cornwallis and the Comte 
de Grasse. In a postscript only, he alludes to his 
wife, to whom (he adds) he will write from Rome. 
Returning to Paris after six months' absence, he was 
warmly welcomed by his wife, and it was thought 
the reconciliation was now complete. 

The Marquis and Mme. de Renaudin were over- 



94 JOSEPHINE. 

joyed, for they had most loyally espoused the cause 
of the wife, and had been unwilling witnesses of her 
sufferings. Their joy was of short duration, how- 
ever, for the fickle spouse soon announced his deter- 
mination to return to his regiment, then at Verdun, 
and Josephine, afflicted by a new access of jealousy, 
overwhelmed him with tears and reproaches. Thus 
unhappy in his domestic relations, made uneasy by 
a conscience not altogether lost to a sense of his in- 
fidelities, Alexander sought to obtain forgetfulness 
in the pursuit of " glory." He offered his services 
to the Marquis de Bouille, who had recently arrived 
from Martinique, with extensive schemes against 
the English colonies. From his uncle, the Due de 
La Rochefoucauld, he received a letter warmly 
recommending him for the position of aide-de-camp ; 
but failing to secure the coveted situation, he re- 
solved to volunteer. On the last of September, 
1Y82, he sailed from Brest, arriving at Martinique 
in November, where he was well received by the 
La-Pagerie family. 

M. Tascher, Josephine's father, had only returned 
from France at the beginning of the year, and had 
been the unhappy bearer of ill-tidings to his wife of 
their daughter's infelicities. Madame Tascher at 
first received him coldly, but he made a complete 
conquest of the Baron and his wife, the latter de- 
claring, in a letter to her sister-in-law, that she 
would be the happiest of women if only her own 
son resembled the dear Alexander. As commander 
of the port of Fort Royal, Baron de Tascher was 



JOSEPHINE. 95 

prominent in all the affairs of the island ; those, at 
least, of national importance. During the five 
years from 1778-1783, Fort Royal was the port-of- 
call and refitting station for all those immense fleets 
engaged in the American war of the Revolution. 
The Baron thus indirectly contributed to the success 
of American arms, for he received and successively 
entertained the ships of the Comte d'Estaing, going 
to the United States, and which remained for six 
months in Martinique waters ; the squadron of 
Lamothe-Piquet, obliged to repair here the damages 
received in glorious action in that same bay of Fort 
Royal ; that of the Comte de Guichen (who had 
been engaged by Rodney) ; and lastly the grand 
squadron of the Comte de G-rasse, which had made 
this port its general rendezvous. Since the depart- 
ure of Josephine, two great naval battles had been 
fought off Martinique ; one within sight of her home. 
It was in April, 1780, that the English fleet under 
Rodney narrowly escaped defeat, after a most des- 
perate battle, in Martinique waters. On April 
twelfth, 1782, occurred that terrible naval engage- 
ment between Rodney and de Grasse, off the coast 
of Dominica, an island adjacent to Martinique, 
which lasted from seven in the morning till six at 
night, and in which the British took seven French 
ships of the line and two frigates. The boom of 
the guns could be heard at Martinique, and the 
crippled fleet returned hither for repairs.* In some 

* See Appendix (5). 



96 JOSEPHIKE. 

of these stirring scenes the Baron was a participant, 
and with all the great captains and admirals of the 
French fleet he was on terms of intimate friendship. 
But, although Alexander was burning to distin- 
guish himself, and must have been stirred to frenzy 
by the accounts from the lips of the actors in this 
bloody drama, yet he was compelled to await the 
outcome of events, ingloriously inactive. The 
peace of January, 1783, and the treaty of Versailles, 
put an end to all warlike preparations ; and thus 
his voyage had been in vain ; unkind fate had 
thwarted his desires. It has been stated that the 
Vicomte de Beauharnais accompanied Eochambeau 
to America ; but there is no authentic record of 
such action ; in fact, although such may have been 
his intention, on his departure for Martinique, it 
was never consummated. 

During this period of enforced idleness his natural 
levity did not fail to assert itself, for he had a 
liaison with a woman of loose character, who was 
at enmity with the house of La-Pagerie. By her 
influence, he was incited to open rupture with M. 
Tascher, and his jealousy excited against his wife, 
left free and alone in gay and dissolute Paris. In 
an interview with his father-in-law he boastfully 
announced his intention of sailing for France, where 
he would henceforth be the master in his own house, 
and would call his wife to strict account. And this, 
notwithstanding the last packet had brought him 
news that should have inclined him towards his 




■^t^ 



A WATERFALL NEAR JoSEPHINE's BIRTHPLACE. 



JOSEPHINE. 97 

wife : the birth of a daughter (Hortense) 10th of 
April, 1783. 

The patience of the La-Pageries was at last 
exhausted. Indignant at the conduct of this un- 
faithful son-in-law towards one who was more pre- 
cious to him than his own life, M. Tascher wrote 
the recreant husband a letter full of reproaches, 
distinctly throwing down the gauntlet, offering to 
take back his daughter, for fear she might come to 
want, and to save her from the indignities to which 
she was exposed. He closed with the bitter taunt 
that the only war Alexander had made, in this boast- 
ful campaign of his, was against the reputation of 
adefenseless woman and the peace of her family. 
This merited reproach rankled in the heart of the 
offender, and exasperated him to such a degree that, 
immediately upon arrival in Paris, he came to an 
open rupture with his wife, notwithstanding the 
intercession of his father and godmother, who in 
vain urged the claims, not alone of the mother, but 
of the children. 

His rage and wounded vanity prompted him to 
demand a legal separation, the first steps toward 
which he immediately instituted. 

Proudly conscious of her own integrity, and sus- 
tained by the sympathies of the Viscount's own 
family, Josephine withdrew to the shelter of a 
convent, after the custom of the time. Within the 
seclusion of Panthemont, she awaited the decision of 
the court, which was entirely in her favor ; the care 
of Eugene seems to have been given to the father, 
7 



98 JOSEPHINE. 

but Josephine retained the custody of her daughter, 
and to mother and child a sufficient ahmony for their 
maintenance was adjudged. 

Tlie Creole mistress is said to have followed Beau- 
harnais to Paris, and she alone adhered to him ; his 
entire family, including his father, his elder brother, 
and his aunt, the Countess Fanny de Beauharnais, 
espoused the cause of Josephine and rallied to her 
side with redoubled attentions and solicitude. 



JOSEPHINE. 99 



CHAPTER XI. 

MARTINIQUE REVISITED. 

The La-Pageries were rejoiced at the prospect of 
once more receiving their absent daughter at 
Sannois, and urged her to sail immediately for Mar- 
tinique. But for the urgent entreaties of the 
Marquis de Beauharnais, doubtless Josephine would 
have sought the haven of peace at Sannois, for her 
perturbed spirit needed rest and seclusion. It may 
have been owing to this desire of her father-in-law 
to afford her a retreat that the Marquis left the 
house in the rue Thevenot and hired a residence 
at Fontainebleau, in August, 1785. The Viscount, 
furious at his defeat, yet ashamed of the ignoble 
part he had played, had rejoined his regiment, fall- 
ing back into the career which had been inter- 
rupted by the unfortunate voyage to Martinique. 

At Fontainebleau Josephine resumed the monot- 
onous routine of domestic duties, the placid state of 
existence into which her husband had burst, like a 
hurricane ; and as, after the storm, there is always a 
lull, or calm, so now into her life came an interval of 
repose. Her aunt sold her home at Noisy and came 
to live near her, as also the Countess Fanny de Beau- 
harnais, the devoted godmother of Hortense. At 



100 josephin:e. 

Fontainebleau, then, the afflicted wife was sur- 
rounded by loving relatives, and at the head of her 
father-in-law's household she presided with grace 
and dignity. She lived quietly in this modest re- 
treat, rarely going into society, her only diversions 
being a walk through the magnificent forest or a 
ride on horseback into the adjacent country. It was, 
perhaps, not alone from a desire for seclusion that 
she was impelled to lead this quiet life, since there 
was an absolute necessity for the husbanding of her 
resources. It appears, at this time, from her letters 
to Martinique, that she was depending less upon her 
husband's pension than upon remittances from home. 
These letters, so sweet and simple, without literary 
pretension, the unaffected productions of a good- 
hearted, earnest woman, are still preserved in the 
family archives. They tell us that the haughty 
pride of M. Tascher would not allow of his daugh- 
ter's receiving alms from one who had so deeply 
wronged her. On the 20th May, 1T8T, for instance, 
she acknowledges the receipt of 2,789 livres, at the 
hand of her uncle, the Baron, who was on a brief 
visit to France. He urged her to return with him 
to their native island, but it was not till a year 
later, in June, 1778, that she finally embarked for 
Martinique. She may have encouraged a hope that 
Alexander would relent and return to her, which 
sustained her during those three years ; but if so it 
was at last abandoned. They had not met during 
that time, though a correspondence had passed be- 
tween them ; mainly with reference to the children, 



JOSEPHINE. 101 

it is true, but serving to keep alive the remembrance 
of happier days. She would doubtless have received 
him back, if only for the sake of their children ; for 
Josephine, as Napoleon once said, had "no more re- 
sentment than a pigeon." She remembered favors, 
but forgot injuries, and all her troubles arose from the 
fact that base people took advantage of this nobility 
of nature, this magnanimity of soul, which could 
see no evil in the acts of those who had once been 
her friends. There is no record of any act of hers 
proceeding from base intention, or design to injure 
any being with whom she may have had relations. 
She looked to the world for pleasure, for happiness, 
gladly accepting whatever it gave her ; not taking 
account of the evil things and the sorrow, which 
were heaped upon her in full measure. She grieved 
over her wrongs, but they did not spoil her lovely 
disposition ; she never retaliated in kind. She even 
disassociated the act from the individual ; not real- 
izing, apparently, that evil may be inherent in a 
person, and took back into her service servants and 
maids who had slandered her. 

This magnanimity, or rather absolute integrity 
of intention, subjected her to misunderstanding. 

The voyage to Martinique was protracted but 
pleasant, and eventually she saw before her the 
hills above the valley of Sannois, and was welcomed 
by her parents to their humble dwelling. Nearly 
nine years had passed since she left Trois-Ilets, a 
careless, happy girl of sixteen ; to return, divorced, 
the mother of two children worse than fatherless. 



102 JOSEPHINE. 

In the hearts of her parents she found that love and 
security for which she had hungered, and in the re- 
pose of La-Pagerie she took melancholy pleasure in 
revisiting the scenes of her childhood. In company 
with the young Hortense, she sought out the places 
hallowed to her by association : the bathing-pool, the 
flower-garden which she used to cultivate with her 
own hands ; visited with her the lowly huts of the 
slaves, and carried to them comfort and cheer ; ex- 
plained to her the processes of sugar-making going 
on in the vast room under their dwelling. 

The Vicomtesse remained entirely secluded, visit- 
ing her nearest neighbors, as M. and Madame 
Marlet, on the plantation adjoining ; on Sunday 
attending serv^ices at the little church in the bourg, a 
mile away, and, after the custom of that time, calling 
on the cure, at the presbytery. It is evident that this 
seclusion was very welcome to her, and that she 
contemplated a long residence here, with more of 
satisfaction than might have been expected in one 
who had tasted the pleasures of Paris. Still, her 
brief happiness there had been tempered by sorrow, 
and the recollection of it embittered by the cruelties 
of her husband. Had she but possessed the guardian- 
ship of Eugene, there at Trois-Ilets, it is doubtful if 
the calls from France could have tempted her to re- 
turn. It is related that she again met the Carib 
sibyl who had prophesied her elevation to the throne 
of France, and who pointed out to her that while a 
portion of that prediction had been verified, yet 
there remained the greater height to which she was 



JOSEPHINE. 103 

to attain, and to reach which she was to return to 
France. 

Be that as it may, she was not destined to remain 
long quiescent in the seclusion of Sannois de La- 
Pagerie. The premonitory mutterings of the gath- 
ering storm in France reached Martinique, and 
awakened quick response in the lively and turbulent 
Creole ; the island was soon in arms, faction fight- 
ing against faction. The convocation of the States- 
General aroused also the people of the colonies ; the 
demands of the people of France found an echo in 
Martinique, which, in common with Guadeloupe and 
Santo Domingo, was soon plunged into the horrors 
of civil strife. The new ideas were adopted with 
alacrity ; Fort Royal nominated as its first mayor 
the Baron de Tascher, Josephine's uncle, who was 
destined to take a prominent part in the approaching 
struggle. From January, 1790, until the close of 
the Revolution, Martinique was extremely agitated. 
The first collision occurred on the day of the Fete 
Dieu, 16th June, 1790, at the city of St. Pierre, be- 
tween some whites and people of color, in which 
several of the latter were slain. As a matter of pre- 
caution, the ringleaders were arrested and confined 
in Fort Bourbon ; but popular sympathy being with 
them, they eventually seduced the soldiers guarding 
them, and possessed themselves of the fort. They 
turned the guns of the fort against the town, the 
governor retired within the walls of Fort St, Louis, 
and Baron de Tascher, sent to treat with the rebels, 
was made prisoner and held as a hostage. 



104 josEPHiisrE. 

The governor, fearing similar treatment at the 
hands of the garrison of Fort St. Louis, which 
seemed on the eve of revolt, fled to the heights of 
Gros Morne, where he rallied about him the inhab- 
itants of the mountain region. Meanwhile, though 
several of her immediate family were taking an 
active part in the revolutionary movement, Mme. de 
Beauharnais resided peacefully at Sannois ; although 
greatly concerned, not only for her uncle, but on ac- 
count of the news from France, where her husband 
had come to the front, in political affairs, and was 
then embroiled. 

With all the ardor of his impulsive nature, Beau- 
harnais now urged his wife to join him in Paris, 
being as anxious for a reconciliation as he was, some 
years before, for separation. Whatever may have 
moved him to this, there had been no change in his 
wife. She had ever kept alive the hope for reunion, 
although discouraged as to the prospect, and she 
lent a willing ear to his appeals. There is no doubt 
as to her attachment for the Viscount ; and, even 
though his harshness had dispelled the illusions of 
their first year of happiness, she still clung devotedly 
to their memory. Above all, she desired that the 
family might be reunited, in order to have her chil- 
dren and husband once more together. Her anxiety 
for their welfare, her tender solicitude for their 
future, impelled her to accede to his requests, and 
consent to seek him once again in Paris. She in- 
formed her parents of this decision, and one may 
imagine their reception of this unwelcome intelli- 



JOSEPHINE. 105 

gence, knowing as they did the unstable character of 
her spouse, and being cognizant of his many infidel- 
ities. Her mother, who had received her first-born 
with extreme gladness, and had hoped she would live 
with her always, entreated her to stay ; not to leave 
that habitation of peace to plunge into the dreadful 
vortex of the Revolution. The father, then suffer- 
ing from the sickness that carried him to the grave, 
maintained a dignified silence, but he was pierced to 
the heart by her apparent ingratitude. In view of 
the brutal treatment she had received at his hands, 
and his insulting attitude towards her father and 
the entire family, this decision of Josephine's to re- 
turn to her husband seemed to them inexplicable. 
Although one cannot but deprecate her attitude 
towards her parents, who had sacrificed so much for 
her welfare, yet one cannot withhold admiration at 
her courage and devotion to that which she seemed 
to consider her duty. The situation in Martinique 
was not devoid of danger, but was tranquil, com- 
pared to the condition of Paris, where, as frequent 
rumors indicated plainly to them, events were 
hastening to the inevitable and terrible catastrophe. 
After the flight of the governor from Fort Royal, 
a revolutionary government was organized, a na- 
tional guard formed, and another mayor chosen in 
the place of Baron de Tascher, still a prisoner in 
Fort Bourbon. There were four ships of war in the 
bay, the commander of which decided to sail for 
France, instead of mingling in the civil strife ; and 
learning that Mme. de Beauharnais desired to secure 



106 JOSEPHINE. 

a passage for the mother country, he offered her the 
hospitality of his flag-ship, " La Sensible.'''' He had 
often been a guest at La-Pagerie, and was but re- 
paying a debt of hospitality in kind. Josephine 
gratefully accepted the offer, and hastened her prep- 
arations for departure. At last the signal was set 
for sailing ; at the shore of Trois-Ilets were gathered 
all the friends of her youth ; her father and mother, 
whom she was never to see again. The commander 
of the squadron had made his preparations so far as 
possible in secret, for fear of detention ; and as it 
was, when the final signal was set, the revolution- 
ists became alarmed and demanded that the fleet 
remain in the harbor. Word was instantly sent to 
Fort Bourbon, which trained its guns upon the flag- 
ship. The boat which had conveyed Josephine and 
Hortense from the shore was hastily taken on board, 
and the fleet set sail. From the guns of Fort Bour- 
bon a rain of shot descended around the ships, in 
the midst of which they made their departure from 
the port. It was a strange fate which ordained that 
the Baron de Tascher should be compelled to witness 
his niece depart under flre from the guns of the fort 
in which he was confined a prisoner, and which her 
own father had aided to construct, twenty-eight years 
before. Yet it was so fated. The little fleet finally 
escaped beyond the range of the guns, and the Baron, 
as well as the anxious watchers at Trois-Ilets, had 
the melancholy satisfaction of seeing the ships disap- 
pear with full sails into the horizon. 

Josephine's departure was in the month of Sep- 



JOSEPHESTE. 107 

tember, 1Y90, and her arrival in France, and at 
Paris, where she was joyfully received by Beauhar- 
nais, followed in due course. The story so often re- 
lated : that she returned on board a merchant vessel, 
and in great straits, not having means with which 
to pay for her passage, is refuted by the evidence 
of contemporary letters, which show that she, on 
the contrary, was the honored guest of the nation, 
and made her last voyage to France on a ship of the 
State. As she was there by invitation of its com- 
mander, the presumption is that her passage was 
free ; and that she was not impoverished is shown by 
the remittance at various times during her stay in 
Martinique, of the aggregate sum of 17,403 francs, 
to her aunt, in repaj^ment of loans from that rela- 
tive. Again, although the affairs of M. Tascher 
were not in a prosperous condition, still, what is 
known of his integrity and lofty character, forbids 
the assumption that he would allow his daughter 
and the heir to his estates, to return to her husband 
destitute. 

This devoted parent, whose whole life had been 
one long struggle with untoward circumstances, 
iinally succumbed to adverse fortune, and survived 
his daughter's departure less than two months. 

He died from the disease with which he was suf- 
fering at the time of her visit, and which was doubt- 
less aggravated by her abandonment, on the sixth 
of November, 1790, lamented by all who knew him 
in the colony. One year from that time, almost to 
a day, the only surviving child deceased, the young- 



108 JOSEPHINE. 

est sister of Josephine, Marie Frangoise ; thus the 
aged mother was left alone, on that solitary estate 
among the hills of Trois-Ilets. 

This mother appears to have been a woman of un- 
common fortitude and elevated character. She 
lived here a life of seclusion, till her death in 180T, 
her latter years embittered by the recollection of 
filial ingratitude ; indifferent to the grandeur that 
surrounded her daughter after she had become the 
wife of Napoleon, and attended only by a single 
servitor. 

Eespecting her lonely life on the estate, there are 
some traditions extant, which show that it was not 
without its perils. She was waited upon by a foster- 
sister of Josephine, to whom the family had been 
particularly attached. This young woman expected 
to be set free, but not being manumitted at the 
expected time, she tried to murder Mme. Tascher, by 
putting pounded glass in a dish of peas she had 
prepared for her. Her mistress was warned only 
just in time, having raised the spoon to her lips. 
She strove to shield the girl, who confessed the 
intended crime, by sending her to the island of St. 
Thomas ; but was unable to save her life, the council 
condemning her to be burned alive. This was not 
an unusual sentence, in those barbarous times, just 
preceding the Revolution ; and the unfortunate 
girl suffered the horrible penalty.* See Appendix, 6. 

* The foregoing is based upon the records of the La-Pagerie 
family, " ArcJiioes de la Maison de Tascher," upon the registers 
still extant in the city hall of Fort de France, and upon the traditions, 



JOSEPHINE. 109 

In her Memoirs, Josephine says: — ''I had long 
ago entreated my mother to come and settle in 
France, and had held out to her the most flattering 
prospects. Napoleon himself had promised to re- 
ceive her with the greatest distinction. ' I shall 
treat her nobly, ' he said, ' and I am sure she will 
better sustain the honors of her rank than a certain 
lady of my household,' " Madame Letitia, who was 
very parsimonious. But Mme. de La-Pagerie would 
not accede to her daughter's wishes, and even if 
she did not prefer the quiet abode at Trois-Ilet, 
had many doubts as to the stability of Josephine's 
fortunes. 

She once wrote her: . . . ^' While awaiting the 
pleasure of seeing you again, I confine myself to 
the preservation for you of a safe retreat from the 

of the descendants of the La-Pagerie slaves. The author possesses 
a fac-simile copy of the marriage-register of Josephine's parents, and 
in tlie parish records of Trois-Ilets are the "Acts of Birth " and " Acts 
of Interment" of the Empress's sisters, as follows : — 

"1763, July 27th. . . I have this day baptized a girl, aged five weeks, 
daughter in legitimate marriage of M. Joseph-Gaspard de Tascher, 
Chevalier Seigneur de La-Pagerie, and Mme. Marie-Eose Des Yergers 
de Sannois, its father and mother ; she has been named Marie- Joseph- 
Eose," etc. 

" Frere Emanuel, Capucin, Cure." 

"1765, Jan. 21, Catherine Desiree, a daughter, born 11th Dec, 
preceding." 1767, April 6th, " Marie-Fran^oise, born 3d Sept., 
1766." 1777, 16th Oct., " I have buried in the cemetery of this parish, 
the body of demoiselle Catherine Desiree de La-Pagerie, aged 13 
years." 1791, 5th Nov. . . "I have buried in the cemetery of this 
parish, the body of Marie-Joseph-Eose," etc. This was a mistake 
in the name, that of the eldest daughter, Josephine, having been 
taken for that of the third, and youngest, Marie-Fran^oise. . . 



110 JOSEPHINE. 

tempests which environ you on every side. .... 
Were you here, I should have nothing else to desire 
in the world. Oh, that I could once more press you 
to my heart, before death overtakes me, " Seeing 
this letter. Napoleon is said to have remarked : . , . 
"■ I perceive that Madame de La-Pagerie, like my- 
self, will permit no participation. She wants to 
reign alone. Very well ; I will some day establish 
her as a sovereign in America, and furnish her with 
a code of laws for the new nation." 

Madame Tascher proudly refused all offers of 
assistance from the Empress, and even returned 
the diamonds which adorned a picture Josephine had 
sent her of herself. She kept the portrait, however, 
always before her, according it better treatment 
than one of the Emperor, which she hung in an 
unfrequented room, laughingly declaring that she 
was afraid of its influence over her. 

At the time of her demise, when Josephine was at 
the height of her glorious career, the etiquette of 
Napoleon's court forbade her to wear mourning or 
to display any sign of grief, so she was compelled to 
dissemble her sorrow and mourn in secret this 
mother whose life had been devoted to her welfare 
from the time of her birth. 

The mother of the Empress lived for many years 
in the chambers of what had been originally a wing 
of the " great-house," destroyed by a hurricane in 
1Y66, and used as the kitchen. Here she died ; 
from this rude dwelling she was borne across the 
fields of the estate to the little church at Trois- 




Statue of Josephine, Fort de France. 



JOSEPHINE. Ill 

Ilets, where one may now find a tablet to her mem- 
ory : 

The Venerable Madame 

Rose Claire Duverger de Sannois, 

Widow of Messire J. G. Tascher de La-Pagerie, 

Mother of Her Majesty the Empress of the French, 

Died the second day of June, MDCCCVII., 

At the age of LXXI. years. 

Provided with the Sacraments of the Church. 

In this little church at Trois-Ilets where Josephine 
and her sisters were baptized, all that was earthly 
of her sainted mother was laid at rest. In the 
cemetery adjoining, stretching down to the sea- 
side, are the graves of her two sisters and her father. 
And these are the remaining memorials, in that 
solitary place so far from the shores of France, 
of those who in life comprised the family of Jose- 
phine de La-Pagerie, one-time daughter of Mar- 
tinique, and later Empress of the French. 

Three miles away across the shining waters of 
Fort Royal Bay, stands a statue of Josephine, one 
of the most beautiful sculptures of modern times. 
On its pedestal are bas-reliefs representing the im- 
portant events of her life, chief of which is the Cor- 
onation. The left hand of the Empress rests upon 
a medallion-portrait of Napoleon, in the right are 
gathered the folds of her robe, which drapes a figure 
majestic and graceful. The beautiful head is adorned 
with the crown which Bonaparte placed upon her 
brow ; the sweet face, with its expression of wistful 



112 JOSEPHINE. 

yearning, is turned toward La-Pagerie, the home of 
her childhood. . Surrounding the statue are en- 
circling palms, the glorious oreodoxas, natives of 
this island of Martinique. 

And through the mists of time, we see her thus : 
her face turned wistfully to the happy home where 
her only peaceful years were passed, where alone 
she found surcease from the turmoil and the ter- 
rors of revolutionary France. That country may 
claim her, as closely identified with the career of 
the great Napoleon, but to America belongs the 
formative epoch of her life, when that character 
was shaped, which crystallized into the woman 
known and loved as Josephine. 



JOSEPHINE. 113 



CHAPTER XII. 

A LOYAL SON OP FRANCE. 

Joyfully received by the Viscount, Josephine 
was conducted to his house in the rue de FUniver- 
site, where she found herself in a different society 
from that she had left. During the next four years 
she was to live amid scenes for which her previous 
peaceful life at Martinique had by no means pre- 
pared her. She was at once plunged into the tu- 
mults of the Revolution ; but at the outset, and 
through all that trying period of strife, she con- 
ducted herself with a tact and sagacity that does 
her infinite credit. Surrounded as she was by people 
who played an important part in the regeneration 
of France, and often admitted to deliberations of 
the most important character, yet she never sought 
to play the role of politician ; which indeed was to 
her repugnant. 

She was content to maintain the dignity of her 
salon, and to receive with graciousness the various 
guests who gathered for the discussion of political 
affairs. Among these were the Marquis de Lafa- 
yette, d'Aiguillon, de Crillon, d' Andre, d'Montes- 
quieu, d'Biron ; in fact all the military aristocracy 
of the Constitutional party. The leaders, also, of 



114 JOSEPHINE. 

that party : Barnave, Chapelier, Mounier, Thou ret, 
and many others. She was then but twenty-seven 
years of age, and still in the freshness of her youth- 
ful prime ; light-hearted, animated, and with a 
polish of manner acquired by her intercourse with 
the best of Parisian society. Among the intimate 
friends of that time she could reckon some of the 
most distinguished representatives of the oldest 
families ; as the Count de Montmorency, the devoted 
colleague of her husband in the Assembly ; his rela- 
tive and former colonel, the Duke de La Eochefou- 
cauld ; the Marquis de Caulaincourt ; the Prince de 
Salm-Kirbourg, and the Princess de Hohenzollern. 

Her aunt, Mme. de Renaudin, and the Countess 
Fanny de Beauharnais, were frequent visitors at 
the little house in University Street, and she had 
engaged a governess for Hortense, whose education 
was thus carried on under her own supervision, 
while at the same time Eugene was studying at the 
college of Louis le Grand. The sad news of the 
death of her father quickly followed her return to 
France, and in the midst of her grief she was called 
upon to witness, and not alone to witness but to par- 
ticipate in, a series of events which, while contrib- 
uting to the overthrow of society, also vitally affect- 
ed her own future. For three years henceforward, 
her own history is inextricably interwoven with 
that of her husband ; the biography of the one is 
almost that of the other. 

They were now cordially united, and, the one 
forgiving, the other remorseful, were equally de- 




The Traveler's Tree and Shrine. 



JOSEPHINE. 115 

termined to bury the past in the grave of obhvion. 
Not even her children knew the extent of their 
father's derehction. 

Alexander de Beauharnais, a native by birth of 
Martinique, but early adopted by France, possessed, 
as we have seen, all the ardent nature of the trop- 
ical Creole, unchanged by transportation to a more 
temperate clime, and for many years undisciplined 
by adversities. 

At the age of ten, in company with his elder 
brother and their preceptor, he was sent to Ger- 
many, where he passed two years at Heidelberg, 
then going to Blois, to live awhile with his mater- 
nal grandmother, the Countess de Chastule. At 
the age of sixteen he entered the army, and was 
assigned to a regiment commanded by a cousin of 
his mother, the Due de La Rochefoucauld. He was 
attentive to his duties and docile, but lively and 
imaginative, of a happy disposition and greatly 
liked by his comrades. His figure was elegant, his 
manners perfect, and he was noted for his stylish 
presence, even in a time of exquisite and elegant 
fashions. 

Early in the year 1778, the regiment of the Due 
de la Rochefoucauld was sent to Bretagne, with the 
intention of going to America, with Rochambeau ; 
but there is no evidence that the young officer ac- 
companied that famous general who so materially 
aided Washington in his victories over the British. 
He sojourned a while at Brest, and was there 
advised of the death of Desiree de La-Pagerie. 



116 JOSEPHIKE, 

The following year, 1Y79, he was united in mar- 
riage to Josephine ; his subsequent career we have 
traced, until his return to France, after the ill- 
starred visit to Martinique, and finally the reconcil- 
iation. 

Although by birth a scion of nobility, yet he was 
above all a patriot, and at the outbreak of the Rev- 
olution thought he could see in it the regeneration 
of France. He embraced the popular cause, and 
yet was a supporter of the constitutional party ; 
wishing to reform, and not to destroy, still he was 
carried away by the revolutionary wave, though 
protesting, and aghast at the sanguinary conse- 
quences. 

At the convocation of the Three Estates, in April, 
1789, Beauharnais was elected a deputy by the 
nobles of Blois ; but was among the first of his 
order to join the tiers-etat. He was bold and out- 
spoken, sometimes carried away by the ardency of 
his nature ; but on the whole wise, and above all 
patriotic. He loved the army, and civic honors had 
no attraction for him, save as they contributed to 
the welfare of his country. While his wife was en- 
route to France, in 1Y90, he had courageously de- 
fended the conduct of the general commanding the 
army on the Rhine frontier, M. de Bouille, for his 
stern repressal of the praetorian insurrection at 
Nancy, and in conjunction with Mirabeau had 
introduced a resolution into the assembly approving 
the general's course and complimenting him for his 
bravery. That same brave Bouille, at one time 



JOSEPHINE. 117 

governor of Martinique, and who had wrested from 
English rule several of the Caribbean islands ; the 
"^Bronze General," who had stood immovable for 
hours, with drawn sword, facing enraged soldiers 
of his command ; the determined loyalist, " the last 
refuge of the king " in his vain flight towards the 
frontier, in 1791 ; finally compelled to leave the 
country he had so long defended, to save his own 
life. The loyalty and the defection of Bouille cast 
reflection upon his friends, and added to the sum of 
suspicions subsequently accumulated against Beau- 
harnais. But nevertheless he defended him, loyal to 
the military, to his friends ; and still a patriot. 

He was twice elected president of the Assembly, 
and at the flight of Louis XVI. in June, 1791, he 
found himself, by this defection of the king, '^ occu- 
pying the chief place in the nation. " He was master 
of the situation, rose to the demands of the hour. 
The morning after the royal flight, he called the As- 
sembly to order, and, with grave and serious air, 
stated that he had information to communicate of 
the greatest importance. He then informed his col- 
leagues that the king and the royal family had fled, 
or had been abducted by enemies of the public safety. 
The confusion was tumultuous, the excitement in- 
tense ; but, during the heated debate that followed, 
and the terrible suspense as to the actions of the 
king and his retreat, during all the popular disturb- 
ances, Beauharnais presided over the deliberations 
of the National Assembly with dignity and flrmness. 
He won the regard of all, and when he resigned his 



118 JOSEPHINE. 

high ojffice, on the third of July, it was amid the en- 
thusiastic plaudits of his colleagues. He was re- 
elected on the thirty-first, and under his presidency 
was accomplished the most important business of 
the Assembly : the revision, co-ordination, and defin- 
itive vote upon the new Constitution of France. 

The discussion opened on the fifth of August, and 
after having given birth, as it were, to this Consti- 
tution — which, in the estimation of some, deserved to 
endure for centuries, but did not survive its pro- 
jectors — the Assembly dissolved. Desirous of re- 
pose after his arduous duties, the Vicomte retired, 
with his wife and childi-en, to the seclusion of his 
country retreat, the Ferte Beauharnais. 

But the time for repose had not yet arrived. The 
suicidal acts of the French had enraged all Europe ; 
the gauntlet of war had been accepted ; the country 
was declared to be in danger, and the young men 
flocked to the camps, more attracted by the prospect 
of military glory than in love with fratricidal war- 
fare. 

The first armies sent to the frontier to repel the 
invaders were under the command of Luckner and 
Rochambeau, and to the command of the latter Beau- 
harnais was attached. At the time of leaving the 
Ferte Beauharnais for the frontier, he wrote to his 
father, stating his desire to assist in restoring tran- 
quillity to France, and in repelling the enemies of 
his country, and imploring his paternal sanction. 
This letter is dated the 17th January, 1793 ; his 
father responded duly, bestowing upon him his 



JOSEPHIKE. 119 

blessing and approving his course. At the same 
time, his eldest son, Frangois, was in the army of 
the Conde, opposed to the patriot army ; and he was 
classed as an emigre until the second consulate. 
Alexander was at once promoted to the rank of Chef- 
cfetat Major, under G-eneral Biron, and entered upon 
his duties with enthusiasm. Meanwhile, in order 
to comprehend clearly the course of events that led 
to his subsequent promotion and arrest, let us glance 
at a brief summary of revolutionary events. 



As the world has known now for more than a cent- 
ury, the pressure of affairs had compelled the King 
of France, Louis XVI. , to summon the nobles of his 
realm to his assistance. They met in February, 
lYST ; but, unwilling to submit to a taxation of the 
privileged classes, in order to raise the revenue for 
meeting the enormous deficit, their assembly was 
dissolved in May. Two years later, yielding to the 
popular clamor, Louis convoked the States- General 
(1789) — the first assembling of the peoples' represent- 
atives since 1611. The result is known : that the 
remedy was worse than the disease ; the clergy and 
nobles refused to make any concessions to the tiers- 
etat ; the people for the first time were convinced 
that they could conquer by force. 

With Mirabeau's answer to the king's attempt at 
suppression: — "We are here by the power of the 
people, and we will not be driven hence save by the 



120 JOSEPHINE. 

power of the bayonet," the key-note of Revolution 
was sounded. The whole revolution, says Mme. 
de Stael, " was but audacity on the one side, and 
fear on the other." But it was the audacity of a 
long-suffering and outraged people, and the fear of 
a degenerate nobility. The " powder-tower about 
which unquenchable flame was smoldering " was 
at last on fire. In July took place the popular up- 
rising of Paris, on the fourteenth of that month the 
attack on the Bastile ; a national guard was formed 
and entrusted to the command of Lafayette ; in 
August the Assembly enacted the abolishment of 
all feudal rights and privileges, and declared the 
"rights of man : " measures accepted by the king, 
with the right of suspensive veto ; Oct. 5th witnessed 
the invasion of Versailles by the Paris mob and 
the next day the return of the king to the capital, 
at the mercy of the mob, barely held in check by 
Lafayette. 

The year 1790, February, the king appeared in the 
Assembly, and on the fourteenth of July, he took 
oath to support the new constitution. On that date 
took place what Carlyle has termed the " great 
swear," when, on the Champ de Mars, the Pres- 
ident of the National Assembly swore {je lejure) to 
support the king and the constitution ; the people — 
all France, swore, to the remotest province, as spon- 
taneously as the preceding, and succeeding, out- 
breaks had spread. 

This year saw the rise of the revolutionary giants : 
Danton, Marat, Mirabeau, Desmoulins, and many 



JOSEPHINE. 121 

others, who led the movement awhile, then fell be- 
neath the axe of the guillotine. Upon the frontier 
the emigres were gathering, and the coalition of the 
Powers was being formed for the invasion of France. 
The death of Mirabeau, in April, 1791, destroyed 
whatever hope the king may have derived from his 
anticipated defection ; the cause of monarchy was 
lost, and he essayed to escape from France by flight, 
on the 20th of June. He was intercepted at Va- 
rennes, when almost within sight of the frontier, 
where Bouille was awaiting him, to conduct him 
within the lines of the emigres. The king was taken 
back to Paris, and Bouille crossed the frontier, nar- 
rowly escaping with his life. 

The Assembly was now supreme, the king offi- 
cially dead, although by the constitution of Septem- 
ber, that year, he was nominally the executive and 
still held the power of suspensive veto. This power 
he undertook to assert in the veto of the measures of 
the next legislative assembly, declaring the emigres 
guilty of high treason, and against the recalcitrant 
priests. The flame of insurrection had extended 
to the colonies of France, especially in the West 
Indies, where the blacks of Hayti and Santo Domingo 
were committing atrocious massacres.. The situa- 
tion there may be given in a sentence, in the reply 
of the chief Oge, to one of the white judges : — Tak- 
ing some black powder in his hand, he spread over it 
a quantity of flour, saying : ' ' Now they are white. " 
Shaking his hand, then opening it, he said : ' ' Where 
now are the whites ? — Ou sont les Blancs f " 



122 JOSEPHINE. 

In the midst of these alarms, how many times 
must it have occurred to Josephine, thinking of 
her mother and relatives, in far-distant Martinique : 
Where now are the whites ? 

At the opening of the year 1792, the Girondists 
were in power ; an army of 160,000 men was raised 
by vote of the Assembly, and in April war was 
declared against Austria ; the conflict of France 
with the outside powers was fairly begun, not to end 
for twenty years, and until nearly two million of 
her sons perished upon the battle-field. Again 
and again, the hydra-headed populace rose to 
the surface of affairs and compelled both King and 
Assembly to listen. Armed with pikes, on the 
twentieth of June, a mob broke into the royal 
palace, in defiance of national guards ; on the tenth 
of August, the insurrection occurred which drove 
Louis from the Tuileries into the arms of the 
assembly, and ended in the massacre of the Swiss 
guard. Thenceforth a prisoner, the king was dead 
to the people ; stripped of power, a monarch without 
a crown. 

The country had been declared in danger, in July, 
and an appeal sent forth for an universal uprising 
to repel the Prussian invaders, then rapidly advanc- 
ing. The country responded as one man, from 
center to circumference being in violent agitation, 
armed and alert. The proclamation of the Duke of 
Brunswick, hastening to the release of the king, 
sealed the fate of both king and ci-devant nobility. 
The property of the emigres had already been seized ; 



JOSEPHINE. 123 

now their lives were in danger, even though they 
might have declared for France, and were fighting 
for their country against the invaders. They were 
declared '^suspects," or under suspicion of conspir- 
ing against the welfare of the country. By "sus- 
pect," their orders of arrest explained, with dia- 
bolical vagueness, is meant all who ' ' by their manner, 
by their family relations or connections, by their 
speech or writings, have shown themselves partisans 
of tyranny and the enemies of liberty ; particularly 
all the ci-devant nobles, their wives, mothers, fathers, 
sons and daughters, brother or sisters ; as well as all 
agents of emigres, who have given constant proof 
of their attachment to royalty." Comprehensive 
enough, in sooth, and few escaped the clutches of 
the revolutionary hell-hounds, who had not already 
sought safety over the frontiers. Even Lafayette, 
the popular idol, who had so ably controlled the 
mobs of Paris, after being sent to the front, where 
he won several victories over the Austrians, was 
summoned back by the Jacobins to stand trial, 
which meant death, and to escape which he fled 
across the frontier and into the arms of the Aus- 
trians, who kept him five years a prisoner in loath- 
some dungeons. Like Lafayette, a patriot-noble, 
Beauharnais served well in the army ; like him, 
also, he was summoned, in due season, to answer 
charges of treason. '^ In the beginning of 1789, a 
splendor and terror still surrounded the nobility. 
The conflagration of their chateaus, kindled by 
months of obstinacy, went out after the fourth of 



124 JOSEPHINE. 

August, and might have continued out, had they at 
all known what to defend, and what to relinquish 
as indefensible." 

Eepeated reports of Prussian advance and French 
losses filled the populace with fury, causing them to 
commit the most terrible excesses, and culminating 
in the massacres of the second of September, when 
bodies of armed men broke into the prisons where 
the suspects were confined, and murdered above a 
thousand in cold blood, among them many priests, 
and women of gentle birth, as the Princess de 
Lamballe, one "beautiful, good, who yet had known 
no happiness, " who was hacked to pieces, and her head 
fixed on a pike, that Marie Antoinette might see it. 
The September massacres of St. Bartholomew, two 
hundred years before, found almost a parallel in 
these, when innocence and beauty were sacrificed to 
insensate rage, and daughters saved their fathers 
only by drinking the blood of aristocrats. 

With what sorrow and shudderings must the 
Beauharnais have heard of this hell-carnival, in 
which friends went down to death, and some of their 
own relatives were killed. The good Duke de Roche- 
foucauld, who had been as a second father to Alex- 
ander, was murdered in the presence of his wife and 
aged mother, his blood bespattering their cheeks. 
His nephew, the Count Charles de Rohan-Chabot, 
an intimate friend of the family, was murdered at 
the abbey ; and thus the tale might be told, but 
could not then be uttered, from fear that the next 
"suspect " might be one of themselves. 



JOSEPHINE. 125 

The desperate valor of the French army under 
Dumouriez finally turned the advance of the Prus- 
rians into a retreat, and the country breathed more 
freely ; but did not relax its persecution of the sus- 
pects. In the newly-elected national convention of 
the 21st September the more violent of the agitators, 
the Jacobins, were in the ascendant, their section, 
known as the " Mountain," and representing the 
extremists, far out-numbering the moderates, or 
Girondists, On September 25th France was pro- 
claimed a republic, and in December proceedings 
were instituted against the king which resulted in 
a sentence of death. Thus, in the course of the 
year 1792, Paris had accomplished the humiliation 
of royalty ; the downfall of the aristocracy ; the 
elevation of the Jacobins to power, with the cor- 
responding defeat of the Girondists ; and the proc- 
lamation of the republic. 

We have little information of the movements of 
Mme. de Beauharnais, during this sad and eventful 
year. Accustomed, however, from infancy, to re- 
gard the sovereigns with respect, even with rever- 
ence, she could not but have been profoundly affected 
by their misfortunes, and have wept over their un- 
happy fate. At the same time, she was rejoiced 
that her husband was remote from the center of 
sanguinary civil strife and the terrible guillotine ; 
though well aware that he was not beyond the 
reach of their enemies. 

It is a matter of regret that we do not possess the 
correspondence of husband and wife, during this 



126 JOSEPHIl!fB. 

period, when trouble and sorrow, shared in com- 
mon, must have brought their hearts very close to- 
gether in mutual sympathy. 

The execution of the king, on the 20th of Janu- 
ary, 1793, brought upon France the execrations 
of the world, hastened the movements of the co- 
alition, provoked the royalist insurrection of the 
Vendee, and filled the distracted country with dis- 
sensions. But it united the party in the ascendant, 
which took to itself the credit of the French suc- 
cesses on the frontiers, and gave birth to the revolu- 
tionary tribunal and the terrible ' ' Committee of 
Safety," invested with absolute power over the 
lives and property of the people. Ingratitude and 
suspicion could go no farther than it was carried by 
this central tribunal, which rewarded bravery with 
insult and contumely, and patriotism by dishonor 
and death. The brave Custine, who had succeeded 
to Brion, after his great successes in the Palatinate, 
had been compelled to withdraw into French terri- 
tory, leaving behind him twenty thousand French 
invested in Mayence. The committee at once re- 
called him, and gave the command to Beauharnais, 
who, at the age of thirty-three, found himself 
General-in-Chief of the Army of the Ehine. 

He was charged with the onerous task of retriev- 
ing the territory lost by his predecessor, at the same 
time he was hampered by the commands of the 
terrible Committee, which not only presumed to 
dictate his movements, but to prescribe victories, 
without furnishing him the men and material of 



JOSEPHINE, 127 

war. The General did not dissimulate to Josephine 
the gravity of his situation, of which she was fully- 
aware from her own observation. His appointment 
was confirmed in May ; in June the leaders of the 
Girondists were arrested by the Jacobins, and 
Beauharnais, as a sympathizer with their party and 
principles, was suspected. Still, he hoped by feat- 
of-arms to earn the gratitude of his country and 
save his family from ruin, and had confidence that 
the rectitude of his course would be recognized. In 
this confidence his wife did not share, as is shown 
by her attempt to provide for the safety of their 
children, by committing them to the care of the 
Princess de Hohenzollern, who, with her brother, 
had formed the project of taking refuge in England. 
In anticipation of this event, the children spent 
several days with the Princess at her residence in 
Artois, and a letter has been preserved, written at 
this time to Hortense • 

" My Dearest Daughter : — 

" Thy letter gave me great pleasure, my dear 
Hortense. I am sensible of thy regrets at being 
separated from your mamma, my child ; but it 
is not for a long time, for I expect the Princess 
to return in the spring, when we shall again be 
together. . . I love my darling little Hortense, 
with all my heart. . . Embrace Eugene for me. 
" Thy loving mother, 

"Josephine de Beauharnais." 

Josephine had acted without consulting her husband, 
who, on learning of the proposed departure, and in 



128 JOSEPHINE. 

view of the effect such an act would have upon the 
Committee, despatched a courier with an order for 
detention. The Princess, having no one to whom 
she could entrust the children, herself took them to 
Paris, to Mme. de Renaudin ; and, by this circum- 
stance, being prevented from leaving the country at 
the time intended, caused a delay that was fatal to 
her brother, the Prince. 

The Marquis was then residing at Fontainebleau, 
where Mme. de Beauharnais was a frequent visitor ; 
though she did not dare absent herself from her 
house in Paris, owing to her conspicuous position 
as the wife of the General of the Army of the Rhine. 

Beauharnais gave all his energies to the reorganiza- 
tion of his army and the perfection of its discipline, 
with such success that he was complimented even 
by the Committee. He had before him the hercu- 
lean task of the deliverance of Metz from the Prus- 
sian besiegers, who were commanded by the ablest 
generals, and the King of Prussia in person. Be- 
fore assuming the defensive, he addressed a long 
and diffuse proclamation to his soldiers, breathing 
of ardor and patriotism ; but in striking contrast to 
the terse, energetic and burning appeals of Bona- 
parte, as at Arcole and Rivoli. He was inspired 
with the highest motives, but in vain ; the strong- 
hold capitulated before his army could reach it, and 
his command was only saved by a rapid and well- 
executed retrograde march to the strong position 
he had left. The capitulation was denounced by 
the committee as infamous, and the failure to re- 



JOSEPHIKE. 129 

lieve the besieged as treachery. As a defeated 
general, as a ci-devant, and a former Girondist, Beau- 
fa arnais could not be regarded by the tribunal as other 
than a "suspect." His resignation was accepted, 
his offer to serve his country in a subordinate 
capacity was refused, and he was ordered at once 
to Paris, Josephine had kept him informed of the 
sentiment, constantly increasing, adverse to the 
employment of the ci-devant in command ; but his 
love of country impelled him to the offer of service 
in any capacity. 

On the 25th of August, 1793, the reunited family 
retired to their country place, instead of fleeing 
from the dangers that menaced them. By retiring 
into the country, Beauharnais only anticipated by 
a few days the orders of the Committee, promulgated 
on the 5th of September, commanding all the military 
noblesse, who had resigned or been deposed, to re- 
tire to their homes, at a distance from Paris, under 
the most extreme penalties. . . . 

On the lYth of September, was issued the strin- 
gent order against the "suspects," by which the 
clergy and the nobility were placed under ban, and 
the prisons and houses of detention filled to over- 
flowing with prospective victims of the guillotine. 
Even the buoyant nature of Alexander de Beau- 
harnais could not blind him to the fact that the 
reign of terror had begun ; he and his family were 
under suspicion. 
9 



130 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

"terror the order of the day." 

The Terror was upon this devoted family ; like a 
surging billow, increasing as it roared and rolled, 
it had invaded and submerged all France. Under 
such a terrible menace as the decree of the suspects, 
no person of distinction could rest secure within the 
bounds of the republic ; but Beauharnais, possessing 
the esteem and love of his neighbors, counted upon 
their protection. This is shown in a letter, copied 
by the hand of Josephine, in answer to a testimonial 
from the inhabitants of Blois, welcoming to their 
midst one who had given his best years to the service 
of his country. Towards the end of the month 
(September, 1793), these people, wishing perhaps to 
shield him from the Committee, and to testify their 
esteem, chose him mayor of their commune, Mme. 
de Beauharnais, who was not yet forbidden to visit 
the capital, sought to engage in her husband's 
behalf such persons now in influence as would 
protect one who, though content to be relegated to 
obscurity, still scorned to fly. At this time, the 
old Marquis and Mme. de Renaudin resided at 
Fontainebleau, and Mme, Fanny de Beauharnais in 
Paris, with her daughter, the wife of Alexander's 



JOSEPHINE. 131 

eldest brother, who was in the army of the Conde. 
By his defection he had placed the lives of all his 
relatives in danger — father, brother, wife, mother 
and sister-in-law — by the definition of the Decree, an 
entire family of "suspects." 

It had needed only the execution of the king, to 
let loose the passions of the lower classes and un- 
chain the fury of the Jacobins. The moderates had 
long since given way to the extremists, and must 
now reckon with Marat and Eobespierre, who could 
not obtain victims enough, who could not shed blood 
enough, to quench their diabolical thirst. All 
power was now centralized in the so-called Com- 
mittee of Public Safety, which every day was hauling 
before them the friends and acquaintances of the 
Beauharnais. 

The suspected family saw its own fate impending, 
but could not escape, for the flight of one would but 
precipitate the catastrophe. In agony of heart, but 
outwardly calm, Josephine and her husband gave 
their attention to their duties at the Ferte Beauhar- 
nais, and each night felt grateful that they could 
gather beneath their own roof-tree an united family. 
The General devoted himself entirely to his office, 
which, though an inferior one, he allowed to absorb 
all his time. At last, the first blow fell, in the 
imprisonment of the wife of the emigre, on the 
third of November. Her mother, Madame Fanny, 
counted upon her friendship with a secretary of the 
Commune, to protect her ; but his influence could 
not extend to the daughter. More and more critical 



132 JOSEPHIKE. 

became their position ; faster and faster fell the 
sharp blade of the guillotine. 

The year 1793 was to be a memorable one ; the first 
month witnessed the head of a king fall " as a gage 
of battle " at the feet of the enemies of the republic ; 
in July, a fairer head was severed : that of Charlotte 
Corday, that ' ' stately Norman figure, of beautiful, 
still countenance," who killed Marat, ''one man 
to save a hundred thousand ; a villain to save 
innocents ; a savage beast, to give repose to my 
country." Alas ! vain sacrifice of a noble life ; it 
was not Marat, but one silent behind him, the in- 
explicable Eobespierre, she should have slain. In 
October, another, more famous, equally guiltless 
of actual crime, equally unfortunate, the hapless 
discrowned queen, Marie Antoinette, whose head 
was sheared away by the relentless guillotine, on 
the sixteenth of the month. To complete this trio 
of French heroines, add another shining figure : the 
ninth of November, Madame Eoland, led to execu- 
tion from Charlotte Corday's cell. " Noble white 
vision, with its high queenly face, its soft proud 
eyes, long black hair floating down to the girdle, 
and as brave a heart as ever beat in womanly 
bosom. . . . Like a white G-recian statue, serenely 
complete, she shines in that black wreck of things, 
long memorable." Who was refused a pen to 
" write the strange thoughts " rising in her. 

"0 Liberty, what strange things are done in thy 
name ! . . ." 

The last day of October was the last day of life 



JOSEPHINE. 133 

on earth for the twenty-two Girondists, guillotined 
in a body: ''Samson's axe is rapid — one head per 
minute, . . . They attempt the Marseillaise ; the 
chorus so rapidly wearing weak — the chorus has 
died out. " But not in the hearts of the people ; their 
death hastened the downfall of the arch-fiend : Robe- 
spierre already trembles for his security. 

" ^a ira ; la guillotine ne va pas maiy Give 
them time enough, they will devour each other, 
these cannibals ; but before the end comes, how many 
innocent shall perish ! , . . During the last months 
of the year the persecution of the military nobles, 
which had begun with Custine, was continued, 
until more than twenty generals were under arrest, 
most of whom paid with their lives their devotion 
to the infernal "republic." Among them, Hou- 
chard, guillotined the 16th of November ; Luckner 
and Brion, on the first day of the new year, 1Y94 ; 
nearly all of Beauharnais' military companions and 
former commanders ; and finally the Vicomte him- 
self. He had been a colleague of Houchard, had 
served under Brion ; in short, neither his inesti- 
mable services as Commander of the Army of the 
Rhine, his popularity as mayor of his commune, 
the influence of his wife, nor the vigilance of his 
aunts, could save him from arrest. He was noble, 
he had been a member of the constituent assembly, 
he was a moderate, he was the brother of an emigre ; 
he was, if any, qualified for a ''suspect." De- 
nounced before the local committee, he was arrested 
at Ferte, taken to the prisons of the Luxembourg, 



134 JOSEPHINE. 

where he found many of his old comrades, also 
victims to the ingratitude of the republic — than 
which no ingratitude can be baser. Custine had 
already perished : one who " had fought in America : 
a proud brave man ; and his fortime led him hither! " 
Beauharnais was arrested in January, 1794. That 
month the houses of detention and prisons held 
4,600 victims ; in March 5,800 ; at the beginning of 
April 7,500 ; at the end of April 8,000 ; " crowded to 
the ridge-poles " with " suspects." 

'^ The 44,000 committees, like so many companies 
of reapers and gleaners gleaning France, are gather- 
ing their harvest and storing it in these houses of 
detention." No one attainted of royalty escaped, 
who had not already fled from this country accursed. 
In November had fallen the head of Philippe 
d'Orleans Egalite, the last remaining of notable 
royalty, though professing himself a republican. It 
was in that same bloody November," says Carlyle, 
in his revolutionary rhapsody, " that two notable 
prisoners were added : Dame Dubarry and Jose- 
phine Beauharnais. Dame whilom Countess Du- 
barry, unfortunate female, had returned from 
London ; they snatched her, not only as ex-harlot 
of a whilom Majesty, and therefore 'suspect,' but 
as having furnished emigrants with money. Con- 
temporaneously with whom there comes the wife of 
Beauharnais, soon to be the widow : she that is Jose- 
phine Tascher Beauharnais ; that shall be Josephine 
Empress Bonaparte, — for a black divineress of the 
Tropics prophesied, long since, that she should be a 



JOSEPHINE. 136 

Queen, and more. ... In that same hour perished 
poor Adam Lux of his love for Charlotte Corday." 
Ehapsody sometimes leads the rhapsodist astray, as 
in this instance, when the great Carlyle mistook the 
wife of the emigre for that of the younger brother. 
Misery enough Josephine endured, and soon enough 
the door of the prison closed upon her ; but it was in 
April, not in November, that she followed her 
husband to the detention-house. 

Her husband arrested, Josephine displayed a 
courage and energy that might seem foreign to her 
soft and indolent Creole nature ; did we not know that 
in the crucial tests of life, this same Creole nature 
has often risen to sublimest heights of heroism and 
self-sacrifice. Far from seeking her own safety in 
flight, which she might have done, she devoted all 
her time to efforts for his liberation : writing letters, 
soliciting those in power, with prayer and en- 
treaty ; she neglected nothing ; yet was all in vain. 
Alexander Beauharnais, ci-devant noble, a general 
of the army, and a gentleman, was too great a prize 
to be permitted to escape the clutches of the canaille. 

She was not surprised, for she had realized that 
nothing short of a miracle could save her from 
arrest, when, on the twentieth of April, the minions 
of Eobespierre seized and carried her to prison. 
Her chief concern was for her children, suddenly 
deprived of her protection, left alone and unattended, 
who for several days were at the mercy of their 
enemies. Hortense was but eleven and Eugene 
only twelve, but they displayed a courage commend- 



136 JOSEPHINE. 

able and unusual, in the cruel circumstances sur- 
rounding them. Finally they were found by their 
relatives, the Countess Fanny and the Aunt Renau- 
din, who cared for them while their mother was in 
prison. But for weeks Josephine was in doubt and 
her heart torn with anxiety. As she crossed the 
threshold of the Carmelite prison, still stained with 
the blood of the September victims, she shuddered 
with dread for the future, yet more from apprehen- 
sion for those dearer to her than life. The end, she 
believed, was near ; yet she sustained herself with 
courage, for the sake of those looking to her for 
assistance, in this the most trying hour of her life. 
The General obtained a transfer to the Convent, but 
was confined in a different quarter, as is shown by 
two letters, written respectively by father and 
mother, to their children. These letters are full of 
affection, of hope, yet necessarily guarded in ex- 
pression, as the spies of the Committee were on 
every side. The mother's is dated from the Prison 
of the Carmelites, 28th April, ITO"!:, and is addressed 
to Hortense, probably conveyed to her by some 
sympathizing friend : — 

" My dear little Hortense : 

^' It pains me so to be separated from thee and my 
dear Eugene : I think of my darling children con- 
stantly, continually, whom I love and now embrace, 
with all my heart. Josephine." 

Equally tender, but longer, was the letter sent by 
the General. Few opportunities were afforded for 



JOSEPHINE. 137 

correspondence with their dear ones ; the days 
dragged dismally away, hopeless, cheerless, un- 
relieved by news from them.* 

The day of Josephine's incarceration witnessed 
the execution of fourteen magistrates of the Paris 
parliament ; on the next the fatal cart carried to the 
scaffold the Due de Villery, the Admiral d'Estaing, 
the former minister of war, and the Comte de la 
Tour du Pin ; on the 22d, perished d'Espremeuil, 
and other members of the constituent assembly, 
while in the same death-cart were the venerable 
Malesherbes and his sister, the Marquis de Chateau- 
briand and his wife, the Duchesse de Chatelet and 
Grammont. The rumble of the death-carts was 
continuous, and many of the old friends of the 
Beauharnais were in these days sent to the guillotine. 
What hope could there be for them, under the 
shadow of suspicion, allied to the most distinguished 
of the victims ; and what road lay before them other 
than that leading direct to the scaffold ? It was not 
solely the brave officer of the army, martyr to his 
principles, who had fought vainly for the republic, 
who was made a victim of injustice ; but every other 
person whose name was a reminder of the mon- 
archic regime. 

Companions with Josephine in captivity were 

* Very few letters have been preserved, of those which were con- 
jecturally written, at this and the period immediately preceding. 
Those published in the "Memoires et Correspondance de I'lmpera- 
trice Josephine, particularly, were subsequently denounced by 
Eugene. Some bear the impress of authenticity ; but are probably 
ex yost facto. 



138 JOSEPHINE. 

some of the noblest of the women of France : as the 
Duchesse d'Aiguillon, who shared with her the 
narrow cell once occupied by a sister of the order. 
Another, at first not prominent, but who eventually 
was the means of their being restored to freedom, 
was a certain beautiful woman of Spanish birth, 
Mme. de Fontenoy, suspected mistress of one of the 
Committee. Here in this gloomy prison the sweet 
and sympathetic character of Josephine won all 
hearts, for she was always true to herself, under 
whatever adversity of fortune. " Benevolent to her 
inferiors, amiable to her equals, polite to those who 
assumed to be her superiors, she won the affectionate 
regard of all her companions in affliction." 

On the ninth of May, 1794, Eugene and Hortense, 
then aged respectively twelve and eleven, addressed 
a naive and pathetic letter to the Committee, im- 
ploring the release of their mother, whom they 
declared innocent of any intention of harm, and 
absolutely necessary to their existence. 

To this petition the callous " citoyens " turned a 
deaf ear, and they remained motherless at Fontaine- 
bleau, with their aunt and the Marquis. Tradition 
has it that Eugene was apprenticed to a joiner, and 
Hortense to a seamstress, during the period of their 
mother's incarceration ; but the most authentic 
history of their lives does not refer to this. It is 
more probable that they were left in charge of their 
relatives, who consoled them so far as possible for 
their loss of father and mother. 

Meanwhile, the guillotine ceased not its work of 



JOSEPHINE. 139 

death ; its daily victims could now be counted by 
scores, even as high as fifty and sixty at a time 
being sent to fall beneath the glittering steel. 
" Soon," said the infamous Fouquier-Tinville, rub- 
bing his hands with savage glee, " soon, we will 
vacate all the prisons and put up over their doors, 
'houses to let.' The guillotine works well; the 
heads are falling like slates from a roof." They 
were falling ; but, soon after the opening of the 
year 1794, other heads than those of priests, inno- 
cent women, and nobles, were brought beneath the 
axe. For dissension had appeared within the com- 
mune itself : there can be but one Lucifer in the infer- 
nal regions ; there was room for but one Robespierre 
in this hell-vortex of the revolution. Even the 
Hebretists, the enrages, the enraged extremists, in- 
curred the displeasure of their chief, and twenty of 
them perished on the 24:th of March. Danton, the 
lion of the Cordeliers, and Desmoulins, were the 
next to fall, the first week in April, leaving supreme 
the terrible triumvirate, Robespierre, Couthon and 
St. Just. But, even as Danton before his death had 
predicted, his downfall carried with it all the others. 
Like a tree of the tropical forest, bound to its com- 
panions by an inextricable network of lianes,. the 
giant in his fall dragged to the ground all those 
about him, enmeshed as they were in their innu- 
merable crimes. Not one head could be lopped off 
here, and another there : all must be severed ; the 
last one must expiate his fiendish deeds, before the 
tribunal of outraged justice. 



140 JOSEPHINE. 

The "men of terror," tigers caged in their crimes, 
raged among themselves ; their cruelties redoubled, 
their horrors accumulated. Carnot, one of the com- 
mittee, finds his own name among the list of " sus- 
pects. " Who then can be exempt ? Only by striking 
off the head of the dictator can the rest even hope 
for reprieve. His doom is sealed, yet how accom- 
plish it, how drag forth the tiger in his lair ? Only 
desperation can do this ; only an arm nerved by love 
of life, or love of love, can send the dagger to the 
heart of the tyrant. It is there, in the convention ; 
it is wielded by one Tallien, a man steeped in deeds 
of blood, yet having heart enough to be in love, — 
with a fair '^suspect,"- — that same Madame Fonte- 
noy, friend and fellow-prisoner of Josephine. 

His mistress is in durance ; she urges him to give 
her liberty, for the death-axe is suspended over her, 
and he dares. Dagger in hand, he denounces the 
tyrant ; stems the tide, turns it against the arch- 
fiend, Eobespierre, who is decreed "accused." 

He is arrested ; escapes ; is driven to bay, and 
shoots himself through the jaw ; but the next day 
the death-tumbrils bear him and his fellow-con- 
spirators to the guillotine. As Samson lifts his 
mangled head to the view of the populace, a mighty 
shout announces that the man-of-blood has fallen ; 
the tryant is dead. Paris, and France breathe more 
freely now ; the suspects in the prisons may rejoice, 
for they will soon be set at liberty. 

But there is one ear deaf to the shouts of an eman- 
cipated people ; one whose fortunes we are follow- 



JOSEPHINE. 141 

ing, to whom the death of Robespierre convej'-ed no 
import. Three days previously, Alexandre de Beau- 
harnais had met his fate ; the twenty-eighth of July, 
was a date now meaningless to him. The star 
of Beauharnais had set. Five days before he had 
been taken before the dread Tribunal. He was 
accused of nothing except he was guilty of bearing 
an aristocratic name. Foredoomed, and aware of 
his impending fate, yet he defended himself with 
ability, confounding his accusers, refuting their 
accusations, in vain ; he was condemned to death. 

He was returned to prison, whence, the day before 
his death, he indited a last letter to his wife, bidding 
her farewell, expressing sentiments of the most 
exalted patriotism, of conjugal affection, of pater- 
nal solicitude : ' ' Night of the 6th Thermidor, 
Year 2 (July 24th, 1794), . . . Yet some moments 
to tenderness, to tears and to regrets, then wholly 
to the glory of my fate, to the grandest thoughts of 
immortality. When you receive this letter, my 
Josephine, your husband will have ceased to live. . . . 
Thy generous soul pardoned the moment that sor- 
row overtook me. . . . What thanks do I owe to 
Providence, who, I trust, will bless thee. . . . Now 
Heaven disposes of me before my time ; and even 
this is one of its mercies. ... I have just under- 
gone a cruel formality : my hair has been cut off. I 
have contrived to purchase back a lock of it, that I 
may bequeath to my wife and to my children this 
last pledge of my affection, of my last recollection. 
I feel that at this thought my heart is breaking, 



142 JOSEPHINE. 

and my tears bedew the paper. Farewell, all that 
I love ! Love each other, speak often of me ; and 
never forget that the glory of dying the victim of 
tyrants, the martyr of freedom, ennobles the scaf- 
fold." 

He carried to the scaffold the same lofty disdain for 
death that had distinguished him in his attacks upon 
the enemies of his country. Eegret at leaving behind 
him his dearest and most beloved, the prey to fac- 
tion and at the mercy of his deadliest enemies, caused 
him the greatest pain. In the fatal death-cart he 
grasped the hand of a single friend, — but with what 
feelings may be imagined — that of the Prince of 
Salm-Kirbourg, who had risked and lost his life by 
returning to Paris with the children of Beauhar- 
nais. 

Thus perished, on the 2tl:th of July, 1Y94, at the 
age of thirty- four, Alexandre de Beauharnais, 
first husband of Josephine, father of the Prince 
Eugene and Queen Hortense. 

A generous heart, a proud and lofty spirit ; above 
all, a man honest and sincere ; by his premature 
death his country lost a great military genius, who 
would have skillfully combated her enemies. 

Carried away by the impetuosity of youth, im- 
patient of even the slight restraint of his married 
life, he had grossly wronged the noble companion 
Heaven had bestowed upon him. But, so far as 
possible, in the four years preceding his death, he 
had reclaimed himself ; had endeavored to atone 
for his misdeeds, by a devotion that lasted even to 



JOSEPHINE. 143 

the foot of the scaffold. On her part, she had not 
only pardoned him, but ever strove to conceal his 
conduct during the years of their separation, from 
his children. They knew him only as high-minded 
and honorable, and as such cherished his memory. 

Although apprehensive of the worst, yet Josephine 
was not aware of his death until she saw it published 
in the daily bulletin of victims, two days afterwards. 
She had hoped till then ; but this frightful blow 
stretched her upon the prison floor unconscious. 

It was hours before she recovered consciousness ; 
then she accepted with apparent calmness the in- 
evitable decree, and prepared herself for a similar 
fate, which, she had reason to believe, would not be 
long delayed. 



144 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

IN THE SHADOW OP DEATH. 

The Terror ended with the downfall of Robespierre 
and the Tribunal, but the horror of it lasted many 
weeks and months, even years. The popular agita- 
tion extended itself to the houses of detention, where 
the prisoners felt the great change in the air, but 
could only for a while divine what had happened. 
Many of them were already under sentence of 
death, seventy were marked for execution on the 
very morning that Robespierre perished. Among 
those who had received the " act of accusation " 
condemning her to the scaffold, was Josephine ; 
but, stupefied with the horror of her husband's 
death, and benumbed by despair, she was unable 
to read it. Her companions gathered around her. 
" At first a mournful silence, the calmness of hope- 
less woe, was the only sentiment manifested towards 
me ; " but at last they broke out into lamentation 
of her fate. Her companions' cries awoke her from 
the stupor of grief and, true to the sentiment of 
self-abnegation which ever inspired her, she endeav- 
ored to cheer those who were condemned to perish 
with her. She even forced a smile to her wan 
countenance and recalled the oracle of the Mar- 



JOSEPHESfE. 145 

tinique prophetess, reminding them that, in many- 
particulars, it had been fulfilled, and that she firmly 
believed in its consummation. " What, I con- 
demned to death ? " she said with a mournful smile. 
"Have no fear, my friends. Do you not know, I 
am yet to be a queen of France : — Je serai reine de 
France.''^ And, turning to her intimate companion, 
Mme. d' Aiguillon, she added : "I will appoint you 
my dame dlionneur," a promise she fulfilled when 
raised to the throne ; but an appointment which 
Napoleon would not sanction. 

This sally was an inspiration of despair, which 
for a while revived her drooping spirits ; but how 
could hope sustain itself in the face of the too 
evident preparations for her execution ? The brutal 
jailer entered the cell occupied by herself and Mme. 
d' Aiguillon, saying he had come to take Josephine's 
bed away, for the use of another prisoner. " How 
now," said the duchess, lightly, " are you going to 
give her a better one ? " " No, no," said the brute, 
with a significant gesture, ' ' not at all ; she will not 
need another very soon." It was the 9th Thermidor ; 
the fall of the men of terror had been accomplished ; 
but in the prisons, where the occupants were in 
ignorance of what was transpiring outside, reigned 
dark despair. Even Josephine had resigned herself to 
the belief that her end was near, and, anticipating the 
brutal office of the executioner, had cut off locks of 
her hair to be sent to her children, as a last momento 
of their loving mother. She had not seen them for 
many days, and had been granted only one brief 

lO 



146 JOSEPHINE. 

interview with her husband, two days before his 
execution, when, their hearts bursting with grief, 
these two met in a last embrace. His last thoughts 
were of her, hers of their children, and she wrote 
them a letter of farewell, to be delivered after she 
should have ceased to live. In this pathetic mes- 
sage she says : — " My last sigh will be one of tender- 
ness, and I hope my last words may prove a lesson. 
Time was when I could impart sweet instruction ; 
but the present will not be the less useful, that it 
has been given in the season of calamity. " But her 
destiny was not so soon to be accomplished ; her end 
was not yet come ; from the profoundest depths of 
despair she was to rise to the pinnacle of supreme 
fortune. 

One of her companions, looking through the 
grated window of her cell, saw a woman in the street 
making signs to her. When the woman noted that 
she was observed she seized her robe significantly. 
For a moment she was at a loss to grasp the mean- 
ing of this pantomime, then she nodded : "Eobe" 
was the word the woman meant to convey. Seeing 
that she was understood, she stooped and picked up 
a stone : " Pierre — Eobespierre ! " It dawned upon 
the prisoner that something eventful had occurred 
to the arbiter of their fate, and she awaited breath- 
lessly the next development. 

The woman threw the robe from her violently, at 
the same time dashing the stone to the ground. It 
flashed upon the prisoner : Robespierre had fallen ; 
the woman drew her hand across her neck ; he had 



JOSEPHINE. 147 

been guillotined ! The joyful suspect hastened to 
communicate the glad news, and soon the prison 
was in a tumult ; reprieved from death, with life 
and all its joys now opening out before them, the 
prisoners fell into each other's arms, wept and sang. 
The intelligence so strangely conveyed to them was 
soon confirmed by the altered behavior of their 
jailers ; the next morning they were free. 

Among the first to be released, Josephine sought 
out her children, pressed them to her bosom in a 
delirium of joy, and bedewed them with her tears. 
The fear of re- arrest was not absent, and she hast- 
ened to Fontainebleau, where she was soon joined 
by her sister-in-law, the wife of the emigre, and 
where she remained for several months. The family 
was reunited, the only absent member the viscount, 
whose memory Josephine mourned sincerely, in the 
privacy of her retirement. She had long since for- 
given him his infidelities and his neglect ; she only 
remembered his devotion during the past four years, 
his constancy to truth, his heroic death. 



Here ends the first and most tragical period of 
Josephine's existence, when she was left a widowed 
mother, at the age of thirty-one. She was in the 
prime of early womanhood, her youth a memory, 
the future dark before her. Of this period of her 
life which we have scanned, biographers and histo- 
rians have given us few details ; but it would appear 



148 JOSEPHINE. 

that it was not the least interesting ; for it is the 
prelude to the second chapter of her career, which 
finds her name intimately associated with that of 
the greatest in the history of France. Henceforth, 
after a brief period of gloom, we shall find her fort- 
une growing brighter and more brilliant, as we 
trace her successive steps to fame, as the wife of 
General Bonaparte, consort of the First Consul, and 
finally Empress of the French ; but in whatever 
station, she will be always found true to herself. 

Although most of the biographers of Josephine 
pass abruptly from the death of her first husband 
to her marriage with Greneral Bonaparte, thus leav- 
ing a gap of nearly two years in her life unnoticed, 
still, these two years, though the least known, 
are not to be overlooked. Viewing their many 
omissions and misstatements, we might with truth 
assume that she had been peculiarly unfortunate in 
her biographers, some of them having been entirely 
ignorant of the circumstances of her early life, and 
others unreliable in their accounts of her first ac- 
quaintance with the great Napoleon. Even in later 
life, she has been subjected to misstatement and 
misapprehension of motive, especially by her Eng- 
lish biographers, who have allowed their hatred of 
Bonaparte to extend to all with whom he was 
brought into intimate contact. They have neg- 
lected few opportunities to disparage Napoleon, and 
to insult his virtuous consort. 

One of the first acts of Mme. de Beauharnais, 
after finding herself at liberty, was to announce the 



JOSEPHINE. 149 

fact to her sorrowing mother, so long kept in sus- 
pense, so long torn with doubts as to the safety of 
her daughter, in distant Martinique. 

While apprehensive as to the fate of her child, 
during the Reign of Terror, Madame de La-Pagerie 
herself narrowly escaped being submerged in the 
tide of civil strife that desolated her native island. 
Animated by the same sanguinary principles that 
prevailed in France, Royalists and Republicans 
fought each other as fiercely as in the mother- 
country, and the fair land was bathed in blood. 
The troops were under command of the governor, 
Rochambeau, who offered to Mme. de La-Pagerie, 
as the mother-in-law of one of the generals of the 
republic, a refuge at the fort. But this the mother 
of Josephine would not accept, although there had 
been an attack upon the quarter of Trois-Ilets, in 
June, 1793 ; and she remained upon the plantation. 

The estates adjoining were ravaged and the great 
houses burned, but Sannois de La-Pagerie was pro- 
tected by both contending parties. In the midst of 
the civil war, the English, taking advantage of the 
disturbed condition of the island, attacked Fort 
Royal, finally compelling Rochambeau to surrender, 
though after a most desperate defense. Among 
those liberated on parole, with the privilege of retiring 
to their plantations, was the Baron de Tascher, Jose- 
phine's uncle, who thus followed the course pursued 
by her father, some thirty years before, and two 
years before her birth. This was in 1 Y91. The Eng- 
lish being not only masters of the island but of the 



150 JOSEPHINE. 

ocean, correspondence between Martinique and the 
home country was extremely precarious, many letters 
being intercepted, and lost forever to their intended 
recipients. This will account for the absence from 
the family archives of any reply to the first letter or 
letters, written by Josephine to her mother. Four 
months after her deliverance, or on the 20th of 
November, 1794, she addressed another letter to her 
mother, trusting to a more prosperous fortune than 
had attended its predecessors, and this missive is still 
in existence. It is superscribed: — "To the widow 
La-Pagerie, on her estate at Trois-Ilets, island of 
Martinique," and in it, after explaining that it was 
entrusted to the care of a gentleman bound for New 
England, via the French islands, Josephine says : 

'' I shall be happy if it reach you, with the assur- 
ance that your daughter and grandchildren are 
well. You are doubtless already aware of my mis- 
fortunes : that I have now been four months a 
widow, and left with only my children to console me, 
and my dear mamma as my sole support. , . . My 
dearest wish is some day to be reunited to you, and 
I live only in the hope that this desire may be 
realized. Adieu, my dear mamma ; we all embrace 
you, and not a day passes that we do not speak of 
you, and of our hope of seeing you in good time. 
Again, farewell. From your daughter, who loves 
you with all her heart." 

"La-Pagerie, veuve Beauharkais." 

"Do not forget loving remembrances to all our 
relatives and friends and a greeting to all the 
servants." 



JOSEPHINE. 151 

Ever the same, loving and thoughtful, remember- 
ing even the negroes on the estate, Josephine forgot 
nobody, even when herself in deep distress. ... In 
apprising her mother of her frightful experiences, 
she could not but have represented to her the desti- 
tute condition in which she and her children had 
been left : their property had been confiscated, their 
friends imprisoned. During the year 1792, the 
general had been obliged to absent himself with the 
army, and his scant pay, always irregular and some- 
times withheld, was the sole support of his family. 
By the imprisonment of the heads of the household, 
every resource, of whatever kind, was entirely cut 
off. It was in pitiable poverty that freedom found 
the widow of Beauharnais ; but poverty was at that 
time universal, and to be poor was considered no 
disgrace. To such depths were the noblesse de- 
scended, that among them friends shared with each 
other their last franc, their last crust of bread. It 
cannot be denied that the vicomtesse was reduced 
to the last extremities of poverty, that starvation 
seemed imminent, and that she hardly knew which 
way to turn for relief. In her extremity, what 
more natural than that she should appeal to her 
mother, still residing upon the home estate, to which 
she was sole heir, after her mother's demise ? 

We find this appeal in a letter bearing date 1st of 
January, 1795. 

"My Dearest Mother: — At last, through the 
kindness of our good friend, Emmery, I have op- 



152 JOSEPHINE. 

portunity for communicating with you, and I em- 
brace it eagerly. I hope this message from your 
poor Yeyette and her children will reach you ; for 
she has great need of your sympathy ; her heart 
yearns for that of which she has been so long de- 
prived. . . . You must be aware by this time, of 
the misfortunes that have befallen me, and must 
know that I have no other recourse than to you for 
the means of my existence. ... I am not only 
widowed, but am deprived of my husband's prop- 
erty ; and without the assistance of our good friends, 
Emmery and his partner (bankers, or brokers, to 
whom the La-Pagerie sugars had been, remitted and 
upon which they advanced), I do not know how I 
should have maintained myself alive, ... I know 
too well your regard for my honor to have the 
least doubt that you will supply me with the means 
for subsistence and to requite my indebtedness to 
them. ... I shall have to depend upon your bounty 
entirely, and must beg that you make me a remit- 
tance at least every three or four months. . . . The 
children are well ; they love you and send you their 
tenderest greetings, in which I join. We are look- 
ing forward to the time when we shall be once more 
reunited, never more to be separated ; and this is 
the dearest wish of your poor Yeyette. Farewell, I 
again embrace you, with all my heart and soul. 

"La-Pagerie, veuve Beauharnais." 

The mother was able to remit but small sums, and 
at long intervals, and Josephine's position, depend- 



JOSEPHINE. 153 

ent as she was upon them, became from day to day 
more precarious. Through their assistance, how- 
ever, she was enabled to Hve during the ' ' starva- 
tion time " of 1Y95 ; though, in common with 
many others of her class, she was at times at loss 
to procure a morsel of daily bread. 

Finally, acting upon the advice of the friends at 
Dunkirk, to which port the Martinique sugars were 
shipped, she resolved to make a flying visit to Ham- 
burg, where was established the banking-house 
through which her remittances were received. She 
arrived there towards the last of October, and was 
cordially received by the banker, M. Mathiessen, 
through whose advice she was enabled to effect 
three bills of exchange on Martinique, as appears 
from a letter to her mother, dated 30th October, 
1T95, from Hamburg 

"You will receive, then, my dear mamma, three 
bills of exchange, drawn upon you from Hamburg, 
the 25th October, at three-months' sight, in my 
favor, in three sums, as follows : 400, 350, and 250 
pounds sterling. ... I need not remind you how 
necessary it is to honor these drafts, since they are 
for the reimbursement of the friends who have so 
generously assisted me and my children. , . . 

"Why do you hesitate to rejoin us, my dear 
mamma ? Think how much trouble and vexation 
your coming would save your dear Yeyette, who 
lives only in the expectation of soon seeing you, and of 
realizing the hopes she has so long and so ardently 
cherished. It is also the advice of our friends : to 



154 JOSEPHINE. 

convert everything possible into funds, and come to 
us as soon as agreeable, to rejoin your own children, 
who love you and will ever cherish you. Eeceive 
this assurance of tenderest regard, my good and 
well-beloved mamma, 

"La-Pagerie, veuve Beauharnais. 

" My father-in-law and aunts are well. Give my 
tenderest regards to all my friends ; remembrance 
to the domestics ; embrace my old nurse for me." 

These letters show conclusively that, however 
reduced the widow of the Vicomte Beauharnais 
may have become, she did not appeal to strangers to 
assist her, nor to charity. It was to her commercial 
agents at Dunkirk, where the sugar of the Mar- 
tinique plantation were shipped for sale ; and to her 
banker at Hamburg, through whom the financial 
transactions were conducted, that this courageous 
mother and sagacious woman had recourse. It 
is possible that she may have received assistance 
from others, but there is no authentic record of it. 
These letters, speaking eloquently through the for- 
gotten years of the century past, dispel the cobwebs 
of fancy and invention, of envy and hate, which have 
been woven about the memory and deeds of this 
daughter of the La-Pageries. In order to explain 
her continued existence during the terrible period of 
distress subsequent to her marriage with Napoleon, 
her detractors have assailed her virtue and her 
integrity, when, as we have seen, neither did she 



JOSEPHINE. 155 

barter the one, nor depart from the other. She 
could not have been other than she was ; we 
are not warranted in assuming, and we have no 
reason for believing, that she was faithless to her 
character, as we have seen it developed under adver- 
sity and sorrow, faithless to her children, nor 
faithless to the memory of her husband. She bore 
herself serenely, faithful to her charge, loyal to her 
friends, unremitting in her efforts to heal the 
wounds and conceal the scars of the days of the 
Terror. 



156 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTER XV. 

MADAME TALLIEN AND THE DIRECTORY. 

" The Terror ended, a season of luxury succeeds 
the reign of poverty. Tallien's mistress, now wife,* 
establishes her 5aZo?^, and gives brilliant soirees. . . . 
Eound her is gathered a new Republican army of 
citoyennes in sandals ; ci-devants, or other ; what 
remnants soever of the old grace survives are 
gathered there. . . . At her right hand in this cause 
labors fair Josephine, the Widow Beauharnais, 
though in straitened circumstances ; intent, both of 
them, to blandish down the grimness of Republican 
austerity, and re-civilize mankind. . . . Grim gen- 
erals of the Republic are there . . . among which do 
we not recognize once more that little, bronze-com- 
plexioned artillery officer of Toulon, home from the 
Italian wars ? . . Somewhat forlorn, for the present, 
stands that artillery officer ; looks with those deep, 
earnest eyes of his into a future as waste as the most. 
He stands there, without work or outlook, in this 
forsaken manner ; glances, nevertheless, it would 
seem, at the kind glance of Josephine Beauharnais ; 
and for the rest, with severe countenance, with open 
eyes and closed lips, waits what will betide." 

* Jeanne Marie Ignace Therese Cabarrus, born in Saragossa, Spain, 
1775 ; Divorced from Tallien, 1802 ; married the Prince of Chimay. 
Died in Belgium, Jan. 15, 1835, 



JOSEPHINE. 167 

In order to understand the current of events that 
had borne Josephine from prison into the society of 
the ruling parties, we must retrace our steps, and 
gather up the threads that wove this rope of circum- 
stance. A fellow-prisoner with the Widow Beau- 
harnais and her companion suspects was the beauti- 
ful Madame de Fontenoy, the daughter of Count 
Cabarrus, Spanish minister of finance, who, at an 
early age, had been married to M. de Fontenoy, a 
councillor to the parliament of Bordeaux. She was 
unhappy with her husband, and secured a divorce 
shortly before meeting with Tallien, who, in 1793, 
had been sent on a mission by the Convention to 
Bordeaux. "In Bordeaux rules Tallien, bristly, 
fox-haired Tallien, still young in years, now become 
most gloomy, potent ; Pluto on earth, and has the 
keys of Tartarus." This in allusion to his crimes 
as agent of the revolutionary committee. . . . But 
there he met Mme. de Fontenoy, " brown, beautiful 
woman, daughter of Cabarrus ; . . . who became 
his mistress, whom he would wed. " She was born 
in Saragossa, Spain, about 1775, and was thus some 
twelve years the junior of Josephine. Her beauty 
was such as to cause a decided sensation in Paris, 
and her fame filled the ears of all. But she did not 
escape arrest, even though the powerful Tallien had 
fallen in love with her, and she was incarcerated with 
the other suspects of the Eevolution. It was her im- 
prisonment, and the imminent danger of her execu- 
tion, that led Tallien to make his desperate on- 
slaught upon Robespierre ; and thus she was in- 



158 JOSEPHINE. 

directly the cause of the release, not only of Jose- 
phine, biit of many others. She was not only hand- 
some, but generous, kind and amiable ; and one of 
the ladies whom she had been the means of saving 
from death said of her: "If you call Mme. Bona- 
parte our Lady of Victory, you must call Mme. 
Tallien our Lady of Good Help." 

She was the acknowledged queen of fashion, after 
the establishment of the Directory, and "set the 
pace " for the ladies of her small court ; though all 
may not have followed in it. In truth, her " revolu- 
tionary reputation " was urged against her appear- 
ance at the court of Napoleon, when, by that strange 
turn of Fortune's wheel, Josephine was the first 
lady in France. The latter never forgot her in- 
debtedness, however, to Mme. Tallien, and would 
have bestowed honors upon her, but for the interdict 
of her royal master. Although Tallien had dared 
death for love of her, yet the possession of this 
beautiful woman did not fully realize his hopes. 
After a few years of married life, during which she 
bore him several children, they were divorced, in 
1802. She was wont to appear at the Tuileries in 
a Greek costume, clinging and semi-transparent, 
which displayed more of her transcendent charms 
than was agreeable to her husband's wishes.* 

* Tallien, Jean L., born in Paris 1767 ; died Nov., 1820. 

In 1791 became a member of tbe Jacobin Club ; '92, clerk of the 
Commune ; ' 93, sent on mission to Bordeaux ; '94 denounced Robes- 
pierre ; '95 assisted in the establishment of the Directory; '98, ac- 
companied Bonaparte to Egypt, as one of the "scientific men ; " 
taken by the English on the return voyage ; 1802, divorced from 



JOSEPHINE. 159 

But for the lives of those dependent upon her, 
but for their welfare, it would seem that Josephine 
would rather have accepted death itself, than en- 
dure the humiliation of relief from such a source as 
the revolutionary monster, Tallien. Yet that was but 
one of the factors in the leveling process by which 
the noblesse were humbled to the earth ; made to 
consort with the very agents of their misery, the 
blood of their own relations still red on their hands. 
Tallien was a type of Jacobinism ; of the proletariat, 
now risen to the surface. The son of the house 
steward of the Marquis of Bercy, he rose by his own 
talents to a position of influence in the commune, 
becoming its clerk in 1792, and deputy to the Con- 
vention from the department of Seine et Oise, He 
took his seat among the Montagnards, voted for the 
death of Louis XVI., and was one of the bitterest 
of the members of the Jacobin Club. In 1Y93 he 
was sent to Bordeaux as an emissary of the revolu- 
tionary party, where he committed great atrocities. 
In 1795, as commissioner of the Convention, he 
ordered all the Royalist prisoners taken by General 
Hoche to be shot. He was cruel, remorseless, un- 
sparing, pitiless. After the fall of Eobespierre he 
was for a time the acknowledged leader of the 
'^Thermidoreans," and through his influence the 
infamous Fouquier-Tinville and his accomplices 
were doomed to the guillotine. His courage was 
undoubted, and he was among the ablest defenders 

Mme, Tallien, by whom lie had four children ; 1805, appointed 
consul to Alicante. 



160 J0SEPHIKE2. 

of the Convention against the rebellious sections of 
Paris, and shared in the Eepublican coup d'etat of 
the "Eighteenth Fructidor." His influence was 
strongest in the interim between the overthrow of 
the revolutionary tribunal and the establishment of 
the Directory, when he was elected a member of the 
"Council of Five Hundred." 

At length the Directory was established, upon 
the ruins of what remained after three years of 
anarchy and misrule. The revolution had destroyed 
itself ; the most culpable of the blood-stained con- 
spirators had fallen by their own hands, their heads 
dissevered by their own instrument of decapitation. 
Some remained for years unpunished, their many 
crimes unavenged ; they themselves took the lead 
in the formation of a stable government or an at- 
tempt at such. The thousands who had perished 
made no protest, except through those once bound 
to them by ties of blood, safe, though impotent, be- 
yond the frontiers of France. Those remaining 
dared not raise their voice ; they must accept the 
terms their masters should see fit to dictate. It 
was enough, for the present, that the more moderate 
had returned to power, or were striving to grasp 
within their hands the reins of government. From 
the chaos of anarchy the ark of safety finally ap- 
peared, long to be tossed on the tumultuous waves 
of passion and intrigue ; destined never to land on 
the shore of security ; but bearing messengers of 
peace to a long-suffering people.* 
* Carlyle. 



JOSEPHINE. 161 

In the year 1795, as the result of the earnest 
efforts of the moderate Repubhcans, the legislative 
power was declared vested in two assemblies : the 
Council of Five Hundred, and the Council of the 
Ancients ; the former having the exclusive right of 
proposing laws for the consideration of the latter. 
The actual power was to be lodged in an Executive 
Directory of five members, to be chosen by the 
Council of the Ancients, from a list presented by 
the Five Hundred. The new "Constitution of the 
Year III." was acceptable to the people; but even 
in its birth it came near being strangled by the 
Convention that was responsible for its existence. 
Desiring to perpetuate their power and to provide 
a check for Royalist or ultra-Jacobin return, the 
authors of the new constitution decreed that two- 
thirds the new assembly of 500 should be chosen 
from among themselves ; hence a new uprising ; of 
which in its place. 

Without anticipating the current of events, it 
may be mentioned that France was ruled by the 
Directory for four years, during which period it had, 
altogether, thirteen members, only one, Barras,* of- 
ficiating during its entire term of official life. 

* Barras, P. F. J. K, bom 1755 ; 1793 at Toulon; '94, instru- 
mental in the overthrow of Eobespierre; '95, President of Conven- 
tion ; October, calls Bonaparte to his aid to quell insurrection of the 
sections ; '98, executes the coup d''etat which banished the minority, 
18th Fructidor;' 99, reigns for a while paramount, imtil Directory is 
overthrown by Bonaparte; later, conspired with Eoyalists, and was 
banished until after the restoration. Died 1829 ; memoirs published 
1873 and 1895. 
iz 



162 JOSEPHINE. 

The supreme power was exercised by five individ- 
uals, and of these five Barras stands forth conspic- 
uous. With his name that of Josephine has been 
associated, to her discredit ; her enemies seizing 
upon the fact of their alleged intimacy to cast the 
blight of suspicion upon her every act and motive. 

Barras was a notable figure before he became as- 
sociated with the ruling members of the Directory. 
He had served in the East Indies, with the rank of 
captain. He took part in the attack upon the 
Bastille and the Tuileries, and was elected a 
member of the first Convention. In 1793, he was 
sent to the south of France, where his severities 
against the anti-revolutionists, at Toulon, made 
him prominent as a devoted Eepublican. He was 
one of the most active in the revolt of the ninth 
Thermidor, leading the attack upon the Kobespier- 
rians, and commanding the troops who took the 
arch-enemy prisoner. The day following he was ap- 
pointed secretary to the Convention ; in November a 
member of the Committee of Safety ; an ardent per- 
secutor of the Montagnards, as well as of the Roy- 
alists and emigres. In February, 1795, he was 
elected president of the Convention ; chosen as one 
of the five members of the Directory, he is said to 
have used his position to gain immense wealth, and 
to procure the means for gratifying his passion for 
debauchery. 

This was the man with whom, through force of 
circumstances, Josephine was brought into contact. 
It is true, that his reputation was bad, perhaps 



JOSEPHINE. 163 

none was worse, even in that time when the records 
of personal behavior were not too closely scanned. 
It is to be feared that less attention was given to the 
character one at that time bore than to the position 
he held. It was a period of disruption, of confusion, 
of sauve-qui-peut ; any straw would be grasped by the 
once haughty noblesse that gave a promise of extri- 
cation from the whelming flood. In the Memoirs 
of Josephine is a characterization of Barras, which if 
not from her own pen (as is alleged), at least gives 
a contemporary delineation of his salient features : 
"He was the hope of all parties, but espoused none. 
He severely censured the men of the revolution and 
cast contempt upon our fierce demagogues. He had 
just cause of complaint against many of them ; yet, 
for his own advantage, he caressed them all. He 
wore the livery of no faction. . . . His youth having 
been boisterous and very irregular, he was despised 
by the nobility, and this circumstance probably in- 
flamed his zeal in favor of the revolutionary princi- 
ples. He was a member of the tribunal that sat in 
judgment on the king. He tendered his resigna- 
tion ; it was not accepted, and the proposition was an- 
swered by frightful menaces. The Brutuses of the as- 
sembly denounced him as recusant, and fear alone 
dictated the vote he gave on that dread occasion. . . . 
Barras became acquainted with Bonaparte when on 
a mission into one of the southern departments. . . . 
After the rising against the Convention, Bonaparte 
had held the post of general of the troops of the 
division of Paris. Not feeling within himself the 



164 JOSEPHINE. 

courage to repel force by force, Barras authorized 
Bonaparte to reap those sterile laurels. . . . This 
act was enough for those two men, impelled by a 
thirst for celebrity, and proud of having made the 
capital tremble. The moderation of the one, and 
the foresight of the other had made the Frenchmen 
who were most resolute in opposing the acts of a 
power as feeble as it was arbitrary, lay down their 
arms." 

Tallien, Barras, Bonaparte : these three names link 
the history of the widow of Beauharnais with the 
most eventful period of the French revolution. 
One after the other descended, retired to the ob- 
scurity from which they had emerged, until only 
one is left : an immortal name, with which that of 
Josephine is inseparably associated. 

By an arbitrary decree of the Convention, which 
prescribed that two-thirds of the assembly should be 
taken from its own ranks, offense was given both to 
Eoyalists and middle-classes, who, most strangely, 
united in an uprising against their newly-elected 
law-makers. By a remarkable reversal of fortune, 
the Convention found itself opposed by some of its an- 
cient supporters, and allied with it the worst of the 
proletariats. The greater strength was on the side 
of the Eoyalists, who prepared for a conflict to the 
death ; only prompt and determined action could 
save the Convention from annihilation. 

The president himself was a man of courage and 
energy, he made the best disposition possible of the 
troops at his command ; but he hesitated to assume 



JOSEPHINE. 165 

the responsibility for the carnage that he knew 
must ensue from a combat at close quarters. His 
indecision cost him, eventually, his position ; cost 
France millions of soldiers ; elevated into prominence 
a rival who soon hurled him and his companions 
from power. At Toulon, while on his southern 
mission, Barras had met Bonaparte, whose skillful 
strategy had delivered that port from the English 
into the hands of the French Republicans. 

In the summer of 1795 Bonaparte was in Paris, on 
the verge of poverty, without employment. He had 
risen to the rank of general of brigade, but had been 
struck off the list of employed officers, for disobe- 
dience of orders. That disobedience, which consisted 
in a refusal to proceed to the west, to join the army 
of Hoche, was the cause of his ultimate elevation to 
the supreme command of the French armies, and 
placed the crown of France upon his head. For, 
while the members of the assembly were in a painful 
state of indecision, an inspiration came to Barras. 
Turning to his colleagues, he exclaimed: " I have 
the man we want : he is a little Corsican officer, who 
will not stand upon ceremony." 

Barras was appointed commander-in-chief, and 
Bonaparte second in command ; but upon the latter 
devolved the duty of repelling the oncoming sec- 
tions. With what energy he did it ; with what skill 
he posted his troops, defending the salient points of 
attack ; concentrating at exposed positions, mow- 
ing down the enraged soldiers of the national guard 
with his artillery ; all this has passed into history. 



166 JOSEPHINE. 

It was the turning-point of his career, the meeting 
of the ways at which, arrived, he did not hesitate 
which road he would take. At his orders, came 
that "whiff of grape-shot" six years delayed from 
old Broglie's time ; six years too long delayed for 
the good of royalty — which changed the fortunes 
of France, of the world. In less than an hour of 
actual fighting he had saved the Convention, had 
converted the attack into a retreat, into a rabble 
rout. . . . This was the formidable uprising of the 
sections against legally-constituted authority, known 
as the thirteenth Vendemiaire. After it was over, 
the strange spectacle was presented of each gen- 
eral in command disclaiming credit for the action. 
Never before was known such disinterestedness ; 
for neither was anxious to be known as the spiller 
of Parisian blood. But the responsibility for the 
event was saddled upon Bonaparte, who in turn 
sought to accredit it to the Royalists. However, it 
was done ; Paris was saved a revolution, and Bar- 
ras, in a speech before the Convention, said, with 
reference to Bonaparte : "It is to his able and 
prompt dispositions that we are indebted for the de- 
fense of this assembly, around which he had posted 
the troops with so much skill." * ^ 

*Bourrienne, "Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte." 



JOSEPHINE. 167 



CHAPTER XVI. 

GENERAL BONAPARTE. 

Napoleon Bonaparte, the defender of the Con- 
vention, the hero of the thirteenth Vendemiaire, 
the victor over the RoyaHst sections, — who was he ? 
Suddenly he had appeared upon the scene of strife, 
guiding, controlhng ; as abruptly, after the deed 
was done, he had disappeared. But he was not 
unknown to the Convention, to the members of the 
Directory, who, even in the turmoil of distracted 
labors, had kept this young officer of artillery in 
view. Rather, he had kept himself from being thrust 
out of sight, had reminded them of his services, had 
furnished them with a plan for campaigning in Italy, 
which had commended itself to their best judgment. 
But who was he, whence had he come ? 

May we be pardoned if we cite what already the 
whole world knows : the biography in brief of this 
remarkable man ? 

Born at Ajaccio, island of Corsica, August 15th, 
1769, Napoleon was six years the junior of Josephine, 
who was then residing with her parents in the old su- 
crerie of Sannois-la-Pagerie, in Martinique. As we 
have already noted, both were born in remote prov- 
inces of France, in islands held by the force of 



168 JOSEPHINE. 

arms, and frequently wrested from their possessors, 
by the varying fortunes of war. The Bonapartes, 
like the La-Pageries, were of noble birth, coming 
from Tuscany ; but at the time their most illustri- 
ous son was born, were in reduced circumstances, 
living a retired life on a small estate. The father 
of Napoleon died while the son was a youth, leaving 
his wife with a large family ; the oldest, Joseph, 
being the nominal head, but Napoleon the actual, 
from his superior force. In 17Y9, April 25th, Napo- 
leon was entered at the Royal Military School of 
Brienne, in France, where he remained five years. 
In a report of the inspector of the royal military 
schools, in 1Y84, is this description of the young 
student : — 

'^ M. de Bonaparte (Napoleon), born 15th August, 
1769, height 4 feet, 10 inches, 10 lines ; in the fourth 
class ; has a good constitution, excellent health ; 
character obedient, upright, grateful ; conduct, 
regular ; has always been distinguished for his 
application to mathematics ; is passably acquainted 
with history and geography ; not well up in 
ornamental studies or in Latin, in which he is 
only in the fourth class. He would make an ex- 
cellent sailor. He deserves to be passed on to the 
Military School of Paris." 

At the School of Brienne, he was not a favorite 
with his companion-students, owing to his reserved 
disposition and his fierce Corsican nature ; but he 
was easily recognized as a leader. He enjoyed the 
society of his elders more than that of his class- 




Bonaparte, First Consul. 



JOSEPHINE. 169 

mates, one with whom he particularly delighted to 
converse being the celebrated Abbe Kaynal, to 
whom he later dedicated a History of Corsica, with 
which his leisure hours had been occupied. 

At the age of fifteen he was sent on to the 
Military College of Paris, in accordance with the 
recommendation of the inspector, and notwith- 
standing his deficiency in Latin and the " orna- 
mental branches." Again, he incurred the ill-will 
of his fellow-students, as well as of the faculty, 
by addressing a memorial to one of his superiors, 
upon the extravagance of the beneficiaries of 
this college. He recommended that instead of 
being encouraged in leading luxurious lives, with 
servants at their command, etc., they should be 
placed under Spartan regulations, with frugal 
diet, thus to become hardy and temperate, and 
good examples to their prospective commands. 
This recommendation was written at the age of 
sixteen. In October of the same year Napoleon 
was appointed second lieutenant, in a brigade of 
artillery, and sent to Valence, where he remained 
nearly a year. His father had died that year, in 
the month of February, at the early age of thirty- 
eight. 

The mother, left dependent upon her relatives 
for support, was ever an object of solicitude to 
Napoleon, upon whom she relied more than upon 
the eldest son, Joseph, In 1Y87, he obtained leave 
to visit her, remaining absent in Corsica for nearly 
seven months ; returning to France, he obtained 



170 JOSEPHINE. 

an extension of leave, and again went to his native 
island, where he stayed till May, 1788. 

His third return to Corsica was not, it is to be 
feared, prompted altogether by filial regard, for 
we find him engaged in revolutionary movements 
during a good part of his stay, which lasted from 
September, 1789, to June, 1791. He overstayed his 
leave some eight months, an absence which was 
subsequently excused on his pretext of contrary 
winds. The next year he was not so fortunate as 
to have his derelictions overlooked, and he was 
dismissed from the service, for absence without 
leave, having returned to Corsica in August, 1791, 
and left in May, 1792 ; all the time being occupied 
in revolutionary attempts. In June he might 
have been seen in Paris, impoverished, living in 
obscure lodgings, out of favor with the administra- 
tion, through his own fault, and seeking employ- 
ment. It was while thus disengaged, a rambler 
through the streets of Paris, that, one day in June, 
in company with his friend, his former school- 
mate and future secretary, Bourrienne, he encoun- 
tered the mob on its way to the attack of the 
Tuileries. " Let us follow the mob," said Bona- 
parte to his chum ; and, taking their stand in a 
position commanding the palace, they saw the dis- 
graceful scenes enacted that proved the precursors 
of the royal downfall. They saw the mob enter 
the palace, saw the king appear at one of the win- 
dows with the red cap on his head. And Bona- 
parte indignantly exclaimed, his sympathies with 



JOSEPHINE. 171 

the king: "Why have they let in that rabble? 
They should have swept off four or five hundred of 
them with the cannon ; the rest would then have 
set off fast enough." 

He was true to this sentiment, as shown in his 
subsequent defense of the Convention : of the main- 
taining of the constituted power, as against the 
rabble, the canaille of the capital. 

He was in Paris on that fatal tenth of August, 
when occurred the slaughter of the Swiss guard 
and the deposition of the king. These events did 
not seem to affect him so much as his own situa- 
tion, which was deplorable in the extreme, until, 
finally, he was reinstated ; not only reinstated, 
but promoted to the grade of captain, and his 
back-pay granted, dating from the time of his 
removal. 

This was the last of August ; in September, he 
was again in Corsica, to which island he had hur- 
ried with succor for his family, and also to par- 
ticipate in another revolutionary attempt. This 
latter was disastrous, not alone to himself but to 
his family, for he had declared against Padli, the 
hero of Corsica, under whom his father had at one 
time served as adjutant. A former admirer of the 
great Corsican, he had turned against him, for 
reasons which were to him sufficient, but which 
do not enter into this discussion, except as having 
a bearing upon his character. As that is not now 
under review, we will not proceed to details, but 
merely state that this action of his seems the least 



172 JOSEPHINE. 

defensible of any since he had arrived at the age 
of discretion. The Bonapartes, driven from Cor- 
sica, landed at Nice, in July, 1793, in a condition 
bordering upon destitution. Napoleon joined his 
regiment and proceeded against Marseilles and Tou- 
lon. It is at this latter port that the name of 
Napoleon Bonaparte appears prominently as one of 
the officers engaged in the investment of that 
doomed city. He was placed in command of a divi- 
sion of artillery ; his genius detected the weak 
point in the city's defenses ; his plan of attack was at 
once adopted ; and as the result the city and port 
were taken. Toulon had been delivered into the 
hands of the English, by the royalists and moder- 
ates, as a means of protection against the extrem- 
ists ; but through the instrumentality of Bonaparte 
— at least, mainly through the adoption of his 
scheme of attack — the English fleet was obliged to 
leave the harbor. Toulon was left to the mercies of 
the Republicans, who were determined to make a 
terrible example of this '^ nest of traitors." Orders 
were sent by the Convention to efface Toulon from 
the earth, together with its inhabitants ; and so far 
as possible these orders were carried into effect. 
Against these bloody reprisals Napoleon had the 
courage to protest, but without avail ; for he was 
then only Major of Battalion, promoted 19th Octo- 
ber ; after the taking of Toulon (December 19th), he 
was provisionally named General of Brigade. 

At Toulon he met Barras and Freron, whom he 
was to encounter later in Paris, as influential mem- 



JOSEPHINE. 173 

bers of the directing powers. They saw him and 
knew of the great service he rendered their com- 
manding officer ; and what is more, they appreciated 
his services at something like their full value. He 
was immediately appointed inspector of the coast de- 
fenses from the Rhone to the Var, in which service, 
so congenial to his genius for fortification, he was 
engaged till the month of April, 1794. He was then 
for several months with the army of Italy, under 
General Dumerbion ; in July sent on an impor- 
tant mission to Genoa, which he accomplished to 
the entire satisfaction of his superiors. Yet, in 
August, he was placed under arrest, the ostensible 
reason being this very mission, which had resulted 
to the glory of French diplomacy, and was a gain 
to its strategic knowledge, inasmuch as Napoleon 
had closely inspected the fortified posts and defen- 
sive points of Genoa and the country adjoining. 
But such violent changes had taken place at the 
center of government, that the armies of France, 
howsoever remote on its frontiers, could not but feel 
their influence. The events of the ninth Thermidor 
had transpired. Robespierre was overthrown ; the 
younger Robespierre, with whom Napoleon had 
co-operated in defense of their country, was arrested, 
sent to Paris, and guillotined. Bonaparte had been 
intimate with this younger brother of the great 
Robespierre, had furnished him with the plans of 
defense and attack which he had successfully used. 
The natural inference was that he shared the senti- 
ments also ascribed to the tyrant. 



174 JOSEPHINE. 

His principles were fairly set forth in a pamphlet 
he had written July, 1795, called the '^ Soziper de 
Beaucaire,^^ which was such a pronounced declara- 
tion of Republican principles that a representative 
of the Convention had ordered it printed at the public 
expense. 

This had called the attention of the Convention to 
the rising 3''oung officer of artillery in the South, 
and made him appear as a man whose opinions were 
advanced and whose principles were strictly in accord 
with the Republican doctrine. 

It was a masterly exposition, and one who was 
not disposed to favor him, declared, " In these con- 
cise judgments is felt the decision of the master and 
of the man of war." 

But, notwithstanding Bonaparte's devotion to the 
Republican idea, and his declaration of alienation 
from the Robespierrians, he was arrested and thrown 
into prison, with orders to be reported before the 
tribunal at Paris. Had he been sent to Paris, there 
is little doubt that the guillotine would have disposed 
of this officer of artillery, whose only crime had been 
that he had obeyed the orders of his superiors, them- 
selves the victims of the reaction against the terror- 
ists. The terrorist deputies had been superseded 
by two others, Albitte and Salicetti, the latter a 
Corsican and supposed friend of Bonaparte. It was 
through their instrumentality, and conjecturally 
owing to the enmity of Salicetti, that the young 
General of twenty-five was arrested, at the outset of 
his brilliant career. To these deputies, Bonaparte ad- 



JOSEPHINE. 175 

dressed an indignant demand for release, couched in 
no uncertain language of defiance, and with a ring of 
true bravery. He was not conscious of having done 
aught else than his duty, to his country, to his 
superior of&cers ; his integrity was his rock of de- 
fense. 

' ' You have suspended me from my duties, put me 
under arrest, and declared me to be suspected. Thus 
I am disgraced before being judged, or, indeed, 
judged before being heard. 

" Salicetti, you know me ; and I ask whether you 
have observed anything in my conduct for the last 
five years which can afford ground for suspicion ? 
Albitte, you do not know me ; but you have received 
proof of no fact against me ; you have not heard 
me, and you know how artfully the tongue of 
calumny sometimes works. . . . 

' ' Must I then be confounded with the enemies of 
my country ? and ought the patriots inconsiderately 
to sacrifice a general who has not been useless to the 
republic ? Ought the representatives to reduce the 
Government to the necessity of being unjust and 
impolitic ? Hear me ; destroy the oppression that 
overwhelms me, and restore me to the esteem of the 
patriots. An hour after, if my enemies wish for my 
life, let them take it. I have often given proofs of 
how little I value it. Nothing but the thought that 
I may yet be useful to my country makes me bear 
the burden of existence with courage." 

This was not mere bravado, for Napoleon never 
shrank from an encounter with the enemy ; he was 



176 JOSEPHINE. 

ever in the fore-front of battle. This sharp arraign- 
ment secured him his release and reinstatement. 

From the middle of September, 1794, to the end of 
March, 1795, he was actively engaged superintend- 
ing the preparation of an expedition for the recovery 
of Corsica from the English. This expedition most 
disastrously failed of accomplishing its object, 
though through no fault of Bonaparte's, and he was 
ordered to leave the south of France and report at 
Paris, for transfer to the army of the Vendee, in 
command of its artillery. He arrived in Paris in 
May, and in June was ordered to join the army of 
General Hoche, at Brest ; but disregarded the order, 
and in August was attached to the Committee of 
Public Safety, in an advisory capacity. About mid- 
September he was taken from the list of employed 
generals, owing to his disobedience of orders to 
proceed to the post assigned him. This did not 
dismay him, for the Committee of Public Safety 
had approved his plan of the Italian campaign, and 
he was known as one of the most serviceable gen- 
erals in the armies of the Republic. 

He had made application for and received a large 
sum for mileage, on his journey from Nice to Paris, 
and was not in such desperate circumstances as be- 
fore. A portion of this sum he had transmitted to 
his mother, at Marseilles, where she was living with 
her daughters in a condition far removed from 
affluence. His own prospect and his schemes can- 
not be better shown than by quoting freely from 
the letters he wrote his brother Joseph, then resid- 



JOSEPHINE. 177 

ing at Genoa. . . . The first of these epistles bear- 
ing upon this period of Bonaparte's life, is dated : 

"Paris, 23d May, 1795. ... I was yesterday 
at the estate of Rogny. ... If you wish to make a 
good bargain it will be well for you to buy it. Some 
8,000,000 assignats will purchase it . . . say 60,000 
francs from your wife's dowry. This is my desire 
and my advice. . . . Regards to your wife, to 
Desiree, and all the family. ..." 

This plan was not consummated, owing to a repeal 
of the law by which such properties could be obtained, 

' ' June 25th. ... I promptly attended to your 
wife's commission. . . . Desiree asks me for my 
portrait. I will have it taken. You can give it to 
her if she still desires it ; otherwise keep it for your- 
self." 

" July 7th. ... I have received no news from 
you since you left. Is Genoa, then, the Lethe that 
divides us ? Because I have not heard from Desiree 
since she arrived at that city." 

" July 25tli. . . . I have been appointed a genera] 
in the Army of the West. My illness keeps me 
here. I believe you have expressed a desire that I 
should not speak to Desiree. ... I have sent you 
letters from Freron and Barras, which will recom- 
mend you to the charge d'affaires of the republic. " 

"July 30th. . . . The plan I have proposed will 
surely be adopted. If I go to Nice, I will see you 
and Desiree also. I will place Lucian before I leave. 
It is probable that you will receive a position as 
consul in Italy. ..." 

12 



178 JOSEPHINE. 

"August 1. . . . Peace is made with Spain. . . . 
My plan for the offensive is adopted. . . . You 
never speak of Eugenie. . . , My compHments to 
JuHe and also to the silent one {la Sileyicieuse)." 
Eugenie Desiree Clary, Joseph's sister-in-law, and 
then the object of Napoleon's thoughts. 

" August 12th. . . . Fesch seems to wish to return 
to Corsica. ... It is all the same to him. ... I 
am little attached to this life. I am constantly 
surprising myself in the condition of a man on the 
eve of battle, with a settled conviction that since 
death is in the end so inevitable, it is folly to be un- 
easy. All this leads me to brave death and destiny ; 
and if this continues, my friend, in the end I shall 
no longer turn when a carriage passes. . . . My 
reason is sometimes astonished at all this ; but 
nevertheless this is the effect produced on me by 
the moral degradation of this land. " 

"August 20th. ... I am at present attached to 
the Topographical Bureau of the Committee, for 
the direction of the armies, in the place of Carnot. 
If I like, I can be sent to Turkey by this govern- 
ment, as General of Artillery, to organize the 
artillery service of the Grand Seigneur, with a suite 
and flattering titles." Jt was the dearest wish of 
Napoleon's heart, at that moment, to be sent to 
Turkey for the reorganization of the artillery 
service of the Turks ; he had already sent a memorial 
to the Committee to this effect ; and at last his 
wishes seemed about to be gratified. At the very 
time of his dismissal from the service a recommend- 



JOSEPHINE. 179 

ation was made by a branch of the Committee to 
send him to Turkey with an extensive retinue. But 
events forestalled this, as his letters show. ..." I 
fear that they do not wish me to go to Turkey. We 
shall see. Write me always on the supposition that 
I am going." 

" August 25th, ... I still hope for a consulship 
for you in Naples. ... I am overwhelmed with 
business. ..." 

" September 5th. . . . The Committee think it 
will be impossible for me to leave (for Turkey) 
while the war lasts. I am to be reinstated in the 
artillery, and probably will continue with the Com- 
mittee. ... If I remain here it is not impossible that I 
may commit the folly of marrying. A word to this 
effect on your part might bring it about. It might 
perhaps be as well to speak of it to Eugenie's 
brother ; let me know the result, and all is said that 
need be." 

" September 6th. . . . Do not fear for me ; my 
friends are all good men, of whatever party. Tell me 
what you would have me do for you. Try to so ar- 
range affairs that my absence will not matter. You 
know, my friend, that I live only in the pleasure I 
can give my own. If my hopes are seconded by my 
usual good-fortune, which has never yet abandoned 
me, I shall make you all happy and fulfill your 
desires. It is now necessary that this affair of 
Eugenie's be terminated one way or the other. I 
shall await your response with impatience." 

" September 26th. . . . There are at this moment 



180 JOSEPHINE. 

some incendiary symptoms, signs of an ebullition ; 
much heat in the head. It will all be over in a few 
days ; the moment appears critical ; but the genius 
of Liberty will never abandon her defenders." 

''October 3d. Night of the 13th-14thVendemiaire " 
(after the Eoyalist uprising of the sections). . . . 
" Two o'clock in the morning. ... At last, all is 
over. My first impulse is to write you the news. 
The Royalists of the sections became each day more 
confident. The Convention had ordered the disarma- 
ment of the Section Lepelletier ; it had repulsed the 
troops. Menou, who commanded, was, they say, a 
traitor. . . . The Convention named Barras as 
Commander-in-Chief of their forces ; they named 
me second in command. We disposed our troops. 
The enemy advanced to attack us at the Tuileries. 
We killed many of them. We ourselves lost thirty 
killed and some sixty wounded. We have disarmed 
the sections, and all is tranquil now. My usual 
luck : did not receive even a scratch. . . . Good 
fortune is mine. 

"My regards to Eugenie and Julie." 

In these few words the conqueror of the sections 
announced to his brother the most important action 
of his life hitherto. It was the turning-point in his 
career ; his future was, indeed, assured. 

" October 18th. ... I am now a General of Divi- 
sion ; second in command in the Army of the Interior; 
Barras Commander-in-Chief. All goes well. Am 
exceedingly busy, and cannot now write in detail." 

" November 9th. ... In the midst of my many 



JOSEPHINE. 181 

occupations, which leave me but little time, I snatch 
a moment to write you a word. Fesch, whom I 
have already instructed, will advise you of every- 
thing of interest. Adieu. Embrace thy wife and 
Desiree for me." 

"November I7th. . . . The family shall want for 
nothing. I have received 400,000 francs for your 
assignats. . . . Send me more particulars regarding 
thy wife and Eugenie. . . . Songis is now my aide- 
de-camp, chief of brigade ; Junot chief of battalion ; 
Louis, and five others you do not know, are captains, 
aides-de-camp." 

'' December 31st. ... If you are wearied of 
Genoa, I do not see but you may come to Paris, where 
I am established ; table and carriage at your disposal. 
Ozon leaves day after to-morrow, carrying my pres- 
ents to thy wife. If you do not wish to be consul, 
come here and choose what would suit you." 

" January 11th, 1796. . . . The multiplicity of my 
duties and the many important affairs that engage 
my attention, do not permit me to write you often. 
I am happy here, and contented. I have sent the 
family 50 — 60,000 francs, silver and assignats ; have 
no uneasiness (on their account). Good wishes to 
Julie. ..." 

"February Yth, 1796. . . . You are sure to be ap- 
pointed consul to whatever place you wish. Lucien 
starts to-morrow for the Army of the North. Fesch 
is here, in a good position. The family need 
nothing." * 

* These letters are from tlie " Correspondance du Roi Joseph,'''' 
published in Paris, 1853. 



182 josEPHiijrB. 

This is the last letter of this important period, so 
critical in the lives of the Bonapartes. They had 
crossed the Rubicon ; instead of poverty and obscu- 
rity, they were now, thanks to the genius and 
the devotion of the son and brother, to bask in the 
sun of prosperity. 

In these letters, it cannot but be observed, Napo- 
leon makes no mention of his acquaintance with the 
Vicomtesse de Beauharnais. There was little need, 
in fact, to announce all his doings to his brother, for 
the latter did not by any means stand to him in the 
character of a mentor. Only those things pertain- 
ing to their individual affairs, to their family wel- 
fare, were referred to. There is, until the end of 
the year 1795, a constant and tender allusion to 
Desiree, the lovely sister of Madame Joseph Bona- 
parte, and with whom Napoleon was undoubtedly 
at one time somewhat enamored. It has been 
charged that he had engaged her affections, and 
that it was understood amongst their acquaintances 
that they would some time be married. But these 
letters show that the fault, if there were a fault, 
was not Bonaparte's. In nearly all there is some 
message for the "silent one," some reference to an 
affair which either she did not wish to acknowledge, 
or Joseph and his wife did not like to encourage. 
From other letters, of hers, in existence, it would 
seem that she considered herself the injured one ; 
but it does not so appear in these unstudied effusions 
of Bonaparte to his brother. But, if he ever held 
for her anything more than a transient regard, it 



JOSEPHINE. 183 

was soon effaced by his first real passion, that for 
the fair widow, Josephine de Beauharnais, whose 
acquaintance was first formed immediately after 
the thirteenth Vendemiaire. 



184 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

MARRIAGE OF JOSEPHINE AND NAPOLEON. 

The hour had come in which these two children 
of destiny were to be united. Though born on 
islands widely separate : one in Corsica, whose rocks 
are laved by the waters of the Mediterranean ; the 
other in Martinique, cradled in the warm waves of 
the Atlantic ; the fates, propitious or otherwise, had 
brought them together in the mother-land of France. 
We have seen what were the circumstances of their 
earlier lives. We have seen with what care Fortune 
had trained the woman for a future of high em- 
prise ; had fitted her for companionship with the 
foremost man of his time. She met Napoleon at 
the outset of his great career, when the gates were 
open to success, which he had so long and so vainly 
stormed. At last, his patience, his persistent wait- 
ing, his implicit faith in his destiny, were to be 
rewarded. No longer poor, obscure, a dweller in 
mean lodgings, a student in garrets, a pleader for 
the recognition which he knew was his due ; he was 
the successful commander in favor with the Con- 
vention, promoted for his bravery and rewarded for 
his genius in defense of principle. 

He had triumphed over every obstacle : he had 



JOSEPHINE. 185 

won victories, not only over the Koyalist foes of the 
Convention, but over his lowlier self. From this 
time he was changed, not only was there a physical 
change, a transformation, from the untamed, 
brusque and skeptical artillery officer of unknown 
origin ; but there was a change in his moral nature, 
as well. He abandoned the habits of his impecuni- 
ous youth ; he slid easily into the position he had 
won with his sword ; he more than filled it ; he 
looked ever beyond, for something more than the 
present afforded. While others were content with 
the temporary rewards of chance or skill, he still 
schemed and planned ; his eye fixed upon an ulti- 
mate triumph over every obstacle, in his pathway 
to the throne of France. 

Immediate promotion had rewarded him for his 
daring defense of the governing power, and he was 
now virtually commander-in-chief of the Army of the 
Interior, As such he had supervision of all Paris ; 
he carried out the disarmament and surveillance of 
the sections, and was occupied with his gigantic 
plans by night and by day. 

Different stories are related of the first meeting of 
the Vicomtess de Beauharnais and Napoleon Bona- 
parte. That which has been oftenest told, although 
in recent times denied, is one that several times re- 
ceived the endorsement of Napoleon himself, when 
a prisoner on the rock of St. Helena. Soon after the 
events of the thirteenth Vendemiaire had transpired, 
and while Napoleon was engaged in the arduous work 
of reducing the chaos of revolution to a condition of 



186 JOSEPHINE. 

peace, he was approached by a beautiful boy £ibout 
fourteen years of age, who supplicated the return 
of his father's sword. This parent had been a 
general at one time in the service of the republic 
and had perished on the scaffold. This youth was 
Eugene de Beauharnais, since the Viceroy of Italy ; 
thanks to the favor of the man he was then entreat- 
ing. Touched by the nature of his demand, and the 
ingenuous charm of the youth, Napoleon at once 
gave orders that the sword should be restored to his 
possession. Upon receiving it Eugene burst into 
tears ; and even the stern general was visibly af- 
fected. A few days later the mother of the youth, 
the widow of the general whose sword was reclaimed, 
came to thank Bonaparte in person. Struck with 
her appearance, Bonaparte soon returned her visit ; 
a pleasant acquaintance followed, which ripened 
into intimacy ; and their marriage was not long 
delayed.* 

It was a fortunate meeting for Josephine, at this 
juncture of her affairs ; which, as we have seen, were 
not too prosperous. 

Having arrived at the grade of General of Divi- 
sion, Napoleon found himself at last in a position to 

* In the "Memorials of St. Helena," and in the " Recollections of 
Dr. O'Meara, we find three different allusions to this event. 

The Emperor, recalling, in his captivity, the tenderness that over- 
came him on seeing the tears of Eugene, said : "I was much moved, 
and praised and caressed him. Several days after his mother came to 
pay a visit of thanks. I was impressed by her charm of form and 
still more by her esprit. This first impression deepened each day we 
met : and our marriage was not slow in following." 



JOSEPHINE. 187 

marry, and it seems not to have been his fault that 
he did not espouse Mile. Eugenie-Desiree Clary, his 
brother J oseph's sister-in-law. There is little doubt 
of an affection previously existing between them, 
as shown by the letters of both ; as evidenced in 
Bonaparte's own letters, which we have quoted, to 
his brother Joseph. But Eugenie's father, a rich 
merchant of Marseilles, was opposed to the marriage 
of his daughter with a poor unknown officer of the 
artillery. Perhaps he thought one poor Corsican in 
the family was sufficient, for Josej)h was by no 
means a great success, either as a man of business 
or later, as the occupant of a throne. So he and 
his family set themselves against it, with the result 
that the young people were obliged to submit to 
their mandate. That Eugenie for a long time cher- 
ished the image of Napoleon in her heart is at- 
tested by her own writings ; that Bonaparte also 
felt an injustice had been done this sweet and attrac- 
tive girl, is incidentally shown by his subsequent 
favors to the one she finally married : Bernadotte, 
who often incurred Napoleon's censure ; but was 
steadily promoted ; until finally raised to the throne 
of Sweden. This affair with Eugenie Clary, which 
might easily have been crowned by marriage, was 
probably the only instance in which the affections of 
the great general were seriously engaged, previous 
to his meeting with Josephine. 

As a youth and in early manhood, he may have 
indulged in trivial flirtations ; in truth, for so se- 
rious a nature, he was quite susceptible to the charms 



188 JOSEPHINE. 

of the other sex. But, from a French standpoint, 
he was comparatively virtuous ; his love of study 
kept him true to his chosen mistress, the Goddess of 
Science ; his poverty was a barrier between him and 
temptation. 

He mingled freely in the society of the Directorial 
salons, meeting there many who were of service to 
him in many ways ; gleaning from the men and 
women of all parties useful information. He went 
for recreation, also, for there was a social side to 
the young General, which his busy life in camp and 
barrack had not permitted him time to develop. 
Under the glances of the fair Parisiennes he thawed 
out sufficiently to be polite, though none of them 
could penetrate his habitual reserve. Perhaps the 
Vicomtesse de Beauharnais, who was always so 
approachable and so gracious, won him to her side 
unconsciously. She, with the beautiful Madame 
Tallien, are said to have ruled in the social world, 
at that time. Strange stories have been related of 
these two, since, conspicuous in the small world of 
society, they were also prominent targets for the 
malice and envy of their associates. It was a 
strange and cruel fate that condemned such as 
Josephine, allied by birth and marriage with the 
noblesse, not only to associate with the murderers 
of her husband and her friends, but to adorn their 
triumphs. In doing so, she merely accepted the 
inevitable ; the old regime was dead ; the new was 
inchoate ; society was yet seething and bubbling in 
its witch's caldron. There were curious juxtapo- 



JOSEPHINE. 189 

sitions, unaccountable alliances. '' One is little 
inclined to dwell upon the ruling society of this 
period. It had neither the dignity of past tradition, 
nor freedom of intellectual expression." Woman 
was as yet hardly a factor in the calculations of the 
ruling class of men. She had escaped with what of 
life and virtue their magnanimity allowed her ; she 
was still somewhat the sport of circumstance. It 
is small wonder, then, that she was evil-spoken of ; 
that she was lightly accused of being wanton ; as 
lightly regarded the accusation. 

With Bonaparte's accession to power the feelings 
of the Clary family in respect to a prospective mar- 
riage with their daughter, may have changed ; but 
the sentiments of the future conqueror of Italy and 
Austria had also undergone a change. 

The name of Desiree was no longer mentioned by 
him ; since the middle of November, in fact, he was 
occupied with another ; his heart was possessed by 
the woman he had met soon after the events of 
October : he had seen Josephine ! . . . 

We have seen, from his letters of this period to 
his brother, what was his condition, his ambition, 
previous to and after the thirteenth Vendemiaire ; 
that page of his history was written by the same 
hand that wielded the sword of Arcole and Rivoli. 
His meeting with Madame de Beauharnais was 
about the last of October or the first of November, 
when she first made her appearance in society. 

If one might believe certain letters ascribed to 
this epoch, but which are without doubt apocryphal. 



190 JOSEPHINE. 

the widow of Beauharnais had figured prominently 
in some of the fetes and reunions which followed 
the overthrow of the Revolution and were the diver- 
sion and scandal of Paris. But as a matter of fact, 
we fail to find her name mentioned in contempo- 
raneous annals previous to the opening of the year 
1796, and we cannot but ascribe to malevolent mo- 
tives the oft-repeated statement that a woman of 
her heart, her sensibilities, and above all, her love 
of the convenances, took part in the festivities that 
followed so soon after the cruel death of her hus- 
band. There is no probability whatever that Jose- 
phine was at all prominent in society before her 
meeting with Napoleon ; it would have been impos- 
sible, with the eyes of her children and her husband's 
family upon her, to have disregarded their wishes 
or the dictates of her own sensitive nature. With 
the exception of the time necessary for the trans- 
action of her business affairs, as at Hamburg, her 
life was quietly passed in a restricted social circle 
composed of the few friends the Revolution had 
left to her, and those whose acquaintance she had 
formed in prison. 

Of this number were her aunts, Madame d'Aiguil- 
lon, Madame Recamier, Madame Chateau-Renard, 
and Madame Tallien. To the latter, as her savior 
from the horrors of prison, Josephine ever felt 
deeply attached, and, unlike many who had been 
recipients of her favor, always displaj^ed towards 
her sentiments of the liveliest friendship and grati- 
tude. For Josephine had, as she has herself said, 



JOSEPHINE. 191 

a horror of ingratitude ; she would not dissimulate, 
even though her friend was proscribed by the Eoyal- 
ist leaders of society, and the wife of one of the 
leaders of the revolutionary reaction. As such, 
however, Madame Tallien interested her husband 
in her friend, and secured through him the restitu- 
tion of some of her property. * 

At the house of Madame Tallien, doubtless, the 
Vicomtesse met the representative Barras, whom 
the Ninth Thermidor had also placed in the fore- 
front with Tallien and his coadjutors. Respecting 
the relations presumed to have existed at one time 
between Barras and the subject of this history, there 
has not been adduced any evidence that a reputable 
historian would admit to his pages. What has 
been asserted has been devoid of proof, and upon 
the mere word of an envious and disappointed man. 
Aside from the fact that Mme. de Beauharnais was 
not indebted to Barras for the restitution of her 
property, nor for the appointment (as has been 
alleged) of her future husband to the Italian com- 



* " On I'appelait ' Notre Dame de Thermidor,' car elle rendait 
service aux malheureux de tous les partis. Cela n'empecha pas les 
royalistes, par une injure gratuite et une ingratitude atroce, de la 
nommer ' Notre-Dame de Septembre,' faisant allusion aux massacres 
des 2 et 3 Septembre, 1792, pendent lesquels Tallien etait secretaire 
de la Commune de Paris. Mme. Tallien etait recherchee et courtlsee 
h. la fois pour elle-meme et pour T influence de son mari dans les 
affaires ; elle etait I'ornement de toutes les fetes et I'ame de tous les 
plaisirs. Elle regnait sans avoir les embarras du trone ; son empire 
secha bien des larmes, et n'en coiita, que je sache, a personne." — 
" Thibaudeau, Memoires sur la Convention et la Directoire." 



192 JOSEPHINB. 

mand ; she certainly had too great regard for her 
children, and for the family with which she was 
allied, to seriously compromise herself with a man 
like Barras. Neither was the one who aspired at 
that time to her hand, no matter how blind the love 
he felt had rendered him, likely to regard without 
suspicion any act that would indicate undue inti- 
macy between the one he loved and his superior. 
Whatever may have been charged to Napoleon, it 
has not been shown that he lacked in sensibility, 
nor appreciation of honorable motive. He had, 
besides, that confidence in himself, that conviction 
of his own high destiny, which forbade the accept- 
ance of a favor, or of assistance with the suspicion 
of indebtedness. 

It was about this time that Josephine left the 
house she had occupied in the Rue de I'Universite, 
to reside in another which she had bought of Talma, 
the famous actor. She had now arrived at a better 
fortune ; in addition to what she had brought back 
from Hamburg she now received more regular re- 
mittances from her mother, and, thanks to the favor 
of Tallien, was in the enjoyment of the restituted 
properties. She was able to assume a certain state 
in the conduct of her household and the dispensing 
of her hospitality. Her reunions gathered together 
many of the friends of former times, who had been 
dispersed by the Eevolution ; here the young General 
found himself in the midst of the most agreeable 
company of Paris, and it was not long before he 
came to pass nearly all his evenings under the 



JOSEPHIKE. 193 

hospitable roof of her little house in the Rue 
Chantereiiie. 

He was welcome, yet he was shunned by some 
and feared ; but it mattered not to him, so the kind 
hostess had a smile for him. With his ardent 
nature love made rapid progress ; he soon declared 
himself. It is not true that his heart was possessed 
solely by ambition to the exclusion of love ; he was 
assailed by the most violent passion that ever vexed 
the heart of man. His letters attest to the depth and 
sincerity of the passion that had seized him, absorb- 
ing, profound, idealizing the object of its desires. 

In sooth, from the first moment that Bonaparte 
had beheld the Vicomtesse de Beauharnais he was 
fascinated — that is the word — by that sovereign 
charm of manner, that mingled grace and dignity, 
which attracted to her all with whom she came in 
contact. 

Says Madame de Remusat, in her Memoires : 
" Bonaparte was young when he first met Mme. 
de Beauharnais, who was greatly superior to the 
rest of the circle in which she moved, both by rea- 
son of the name she bore, and the elegance of her 
manners. She attached herself to him and flat- 
tered his pride ; she procured him a step forward 
in rank (?) ; he became accustomed to associate the 
idea of her influence with every piece of good 
fortune that befell him ; and this superstition, 
which she kept up very cleverly, exerted great 
power over him, for a long time. . . . When he mar- 
ried the Widow Beauharnais, Bonaparte believed 
13 



194 JOSEPHINE. 

that lie was allying himself to a very great lady ; 
his marriage, therefore, was one conquest the 
more, . . . Yet he had some affection for her, and 
if he was ever really stirred by any emotion, it was 
by her and for her." 

This is the admission of a woman who was the 
recipient of favors from both Josephine and Bona- 
parte, one who played an important though subor- 
dinate part in their imperial court, and whose envy 
was excited by the success of those she would rather 
have regarded as her inferiors in station. There is 
little doubt that at first the General was drawn to 
the Vicomtesse by her social position, the impor- 
tance of which he may have exaggerated ; though 
she was allied with two of the most honorable fam- 
ilies of France, was the widow of one of the most 
respected generals of the republic, who had also 
held the office of president of the Assembly at a 
most critical period of its fortunes, and who had 
been a welcome guest in the salons of the old 
regime. Josephine was undoubtedly what would 
then have been considered a bon parti, for the 
recently-elevated general of the Army of the Inte- 
rior, who, having risen to his present position by 
his unaided sword, and dependent upon it for his 
future greatness, might perish in the war without 
attaining to any higher rank than that he then 
held. On the other hand, it could not have been 
from interest, merely, that Bonaparte sought the 
hand of the Vicomtesse in marriage, for he neither 
knew nor cared what was her fortune. 



JOSEPHINE. 195 

A widow of only eighteen months, Josephine had 
not lost all recollection of her husband's many 
amiable qualities ; of the promise the future seemed 
to hold respecting their closer union ; of the anguish 
and the affectionate solicitude of those last moments 
of his life, when, with his latest breath, he had 
commended their children to her care. The pros- 
pect of another assuming his place in her affections 
and becoming a second father to his children, was 
at the outset repugnant to her, Bonaparte prom- 
ised to love and protect her children as his own ; 
and this promise no one can accuse him of having 
forgotten ; he ever held their interests as his own, 
always manifested for them the tenderest regard, 
the most earnest solicitude. 

Her family counseled her to accept the General's 
proposal : her aunt, Mme. de Eenaudin, Fanny 
Beauharnais, and even the old Marquis, her father- 
in-law. If reasons for her acceptance were want- 
ing, they were not long forthcoming. This contest 
between her regard for Alexander's memory and 
his children, on the one side ; and a sincere love, 
ardently expressed, on the other, tore her heart with 
doubts. 

A letter attributed to Josephine, and assigned to 
this period of her history has been published, as- 
suming to throw light upon her feelings and 
motives at this time. But this letter bears every 
evidence of being a fabrication, it is so altogether 
different from the chaste style in which Josephine 
was wont to express herself, treats with such levity 



196 JOSEPHINE. 

the memory of her husband and the serious atten- 
tions of one who would honor her with his hand . . . 

'' My dear friend, I am urged to marry again ; 
my friends counsel the measure, my aunt almost 
lays her injunctions to the same effect, and my chil- 
dren entreat my compliance. Why are you not here 
to give me your advice at this important juncture : 
to persuade me that I ought to consent to a union 
which must put an end to the irksomeness of my 
present position ? . . . You have met General Bona- 
parte at my house. Well, it is he who would sup- 
ply a father's place to the orphans of Alexandre de 
Beauharnais, and a husband's to his widow . . . 
' Do you love him ? ' you will ask. Not exactly. 
' You then dislike him ? ' Not quite so bad ; but 
I find myself in that state of indifference which is 
anything but agreeable, and which to devotees in 
religion gives more trouble than all their other pec- 
cadilloes. Love, being a kind of worship, requires 
that one feel very differently from all this ; and 
hence the need I have for your advice, which might 
fix the irresolution of my feeble character. . . . 

" Being now past the heyday of youth, can I hope 
long to preserve that ardor of attachment which, in 
the General, resembles a fit of delirium ? If, after 
our union, he should cease to love me, will he not 
reproach me with what he will have sacrificed for 
my sake ? Will he not regret a more brilliant mar- 
riage which he might have contracted ? What shall 
I then reply ? What shall I do ? I shall weep. . . . 



JOSEPHINE. 197 

"Excellent resource, you will say. . . . Barras 
gives assurance that if I marry the General he will 
so contrive that he shall be appointed to the com- 
mand of the Army of Italy. Yesterday, Bonaparte, 
speaking of this favor, which already excites mur- 
muring among his fellow-soldiers, said to me : 
' Think they, then, I have need of their protection ? 
Egregious mistake. They will all be but too happy, 
one day, should I condescend to grant them mine. 
My sword is by my side, and with it I will go 
far.'" 

In this strain this conjectural letter from the pen 
of the Vicomtesse continues, bearing on its face the 
evidence of its falsity.* Josephine has been pe- 
culiarly unfortunate in her female biographers, 
writers of memoirs that depend upon the interest 
attaching to their illustrious subject for their 
favor with the public. 

Not less mendacious, apparently, are the alleged 
memoirs of Mile, le Normand, attributed to Joseph- 
ine herself. From the fabric of fiction it is difficult 
to extract what may be accepted as true ; but there 
is, doubtless, somewhat of truth in the body of the 
book ; though the animus of the author is apparent : 
to strike, through her heroine, her imperial con- 
sort, t Thus, credence is given to the statement 
that Bonaparte was indebted to Barras for his pro- 
motion ; and the inference is given that it was as 

* "Memoires de Mme. Ducrest." 

t "Memoires Historique et Secret de 1' Imperatrice Jos^pMne ; " 
par Mile. M. A. le Normand : Paris, 1818. 



198 JOSEPHINE. 

the reward for favors already received from Joseph- 
ine. Under the guise of friendship, the women 
strike at the hand once stretched forth to their as- 
sistance ; while ostensibly writing these truthful 
memoirs of Josephine, they poison the minds of their 
readers with their base suggestions of intrigue. 

In the Le-Normand memoirs Josephine is made 
to say : . . . "I now come to the time when my 
destiny was to change. Since the death of my 
husband, my heart had dwelt upon those dreadful 
events which had decimated France and plunged so 
many families into mourning and oblivion. . . , The 
image of my lost happiness revealing itself to me as 
I reflected that M. de Beauharnais had intended 
again to unite himself to me, seemed, even in the 
midst of my misfortunes, to betoken a happier 
future. 

" Happy to be free, I felt a repugnance to con- 
tracting another marriage. . . . But, being one 
day on a visit at Mme. Chateau-Renard's I was sit- 
ting at a window looking at some violets, when 
suddenly the famous Bonaparte was announced. 
Why, I was unable to tell, but that name made me 
tremble ; a violent shudder seized me on seeing him 
approach. I dared, however, to catch the attention 
of the man who had achieved so easy a victory over 
the Parisians. . . . The rest of the company looked 
at him in silence. I was the first to speak to him. 
The next day Barras said to me : ' I am about to 
propose to you, madame, something to your advan- 
tage. For a long time you have thought only of the 



JOSEPHINE. 199 

welfare of others ; it is high time you should be oc- 
cupied about your own affairs. I want to make 
you marry the little Bonaparte, whom I have just 
got appointed general-in-chief, and to whom I have 
given the business of conquering Italy.' . . . 

''I was surprised at the proposal ; it by no means 
met my approbation. ' Do you really think of 
that?' said I to the Director; 'your project is in- 
conceivable.' . . . We met several times at Tal- 
lien's ; the more I sought to avoid his presence, the 
more he seemed to multiply himself in my 
way. . . . But I consented, at length, to marry 
the hero who was to conquer so many nations. ... I 
myself sent to Bonaparte the letter of the Directory, 
offering him the command of the Army of Italy. . . . 
He had but a few days to make his preparations for 
crossing the Alps ; and two days before his depart- 
ure he received the title of my husband. . . . Bon- 
aparte left me an honorable title, and a delightful 
abode at his residence, where I saw constantly the 
best of company, where I was visited by deputies 
and generals." 

These memoires were published four years after 
the death of Josephine and while Napoleon was a 
prisoner at St. Helena ; his enemies were in power 
again ; this book was intended as a propitiatory 
offering to royalty, by an unprincipled and unscrup- 
ulous woman, Mile. Le-Normand, who was a pro- 
fessional fortune-teller of Paris. 

We turn with relief to the authentic narrative of 



200 JOSEPHINE. 

Josephine's life which has been taken as the basis of 
this history, published some forty years after her 
death, and written by one who made a careful ex- 
amination of all available material, in France and 
in the island of her birth,* 

Josephine was impressed by the ardor of her 
lover's suit, by his ingenuous affection ; but she 
doubted her ability, being no longer in her premiere 
jeunesse, to hold in thrall the genius of one so aspir- 
ing, and at the same time so much younger than 
herself. Her first marriage had been at the outset 
so unhappy, she feared to engage in another con- 
tract that should fetter the freedom she then enjoyed, 
and which, though it exposed her to malicious at- 
tacks, yet had its manifold attractions. But in the 
end, she submitted, drawn in spite of herself by the 
magnetic, dominant personality of the young and 
ardent Napoleon, Once having yielded her consent, 
she could not but recall, and impart to her affianced, 
the prediction of the Martinique prophetess, which 
seemed to confirm her impression that she was in- 
deed to link her fortunes with the man of destiny. 
Not all her frienls believed that her prospective 
union was tobeab3ttermentof her fortunes ; many, 
in fact, averring that the advantage lay with the 
General of the Convention. 

Having accepted the General's offer, Madame de 
Beauharnais charged her friend, Mme, Campan, 
with the disagreeable duty of breaking the news to 

* " Histoire de 1' Impera trice JosepMne," par Joseph Aubenas : 
Paris, 1857. 




Eugenie D^siree Claky. 



JOSEPHINE. 201 

her children ; for she shrank from acquainting them 
with the approaching marriage, knowing full well 
their reverence for their father's memory and name. 
Eugene was then at college, and Hortense was at 
the famous school kept by Madame Campan, which 
she had entered in August or September, 1Y95.* 

The union was consummated, after the manner of 
those revolutionary times, by an appearance before 
a civil magistrate, on the 9th of March, 1796, in 
the mayoralty of the second arrondissement of Paris, 
in which Mme. de Beauharnais then resided. 

Their brief honeymoon was passed in the little 
house, Eue Chantereine. Twelve days later, Bona- 
parte was compelled to leave his bride, his new-found 
happiness, the home to which he had at last attained, 
and on the 21st of March was on his way to win the 
imperishable glory which awaited him on the battle- 
fields of Italy. 

* ^^ Correspondance de Mme. Campan avec la Beine Hortense''\ . . 
"Six mois apres (1' entree d'Hortense a Saint-Germain), Mme. 
de Beauharnais vint me f aire part de son mariage avec un gentilhomme 
Corse, eleve de I'ecole militaire et general. Je fus chargee d'ap- 
prendre cette nouvelle a sa fiUe, qui s'affligea longtemps de voir sa 
mere clianger de nom," etc. 



202 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTEE XVIII. 

THE ITALIAN CAMPAIGN. 

One object of Bonaparte's desires had been attained, 
one ambition gratified, but he had not yet scaled the 
heights of fame. In the marriage-act Napoleon 
is indicated as General-in-Chief of the Army of 
the Interior, although he had been nominated to 
the command of the Army of Italy two weeks be- 
fore, or on the 22d of February. His commission 
may not have been signed, or he may not have 
chosen to assume the title in advance of taking the 
command. His friends would ascribe such an act 
to modesty, his enemies to policy ; but whatever 
the reason, such is the fact. As witnesses to the 
marriage there were, on the part of Napoleon, the 
representative Barras, as member of the Directory 
and chief of the Vendemiaire, and Lemarrois, Bona- 
parte's aide-de-camp. Several officers served him 
in this capacity, at that time ; but he had given the 
preference to Lemarrois, because, it is thought, he 
had been indirectly instrumental in promoting this 
marriage, by introducing to the General the young 
Eugene, on the occasion of his request for his father's 
sword. Mme. de Beauharnais had, as witnesses, 
Tallien, to whom and whose wife she was so deeply 



JOSEPHINE. 203 

indebted ; and a certain lawyer, Calmelet, an old 
friend and solicitor of the Beauharnais. 

The names of the contracting parties were re- 
corded as " Napolione Bonaparte, and Marie- Joseph- 
Eose de Tascher." The residence of the General is 
given as Eue d' Anton, which was then, doubtless, 
his private domicile ; though as military comman- 
dant his official residence was in the Rue des 
Capucins. 

Josephine's domicile is entered as at Rue Chan- 
tereine, in the little house from which, four years 
later, Bonaparte emerged as the genius of the 18 th 
Brumaire, and the dictator of all France. 

One error in the marriage-act cannot be over- 
looked, although it may be attributed to gallantry 
on the part of Napoleon, or negligence of the 
civil officer, as to their respective ages. The 
age of Bonaparte is entered as twenty-eight, when 
he was but twenty-six, seven months ; that of 
Josephine as the same, when she was really thirty- 
two and more ; in other words, the general was 
made two years older and his wife four years 
younger, than their certificates of birth would 
warrant. Both may have been sensitive as to the 
discrepancy in their ages, and doubtless both connived 
at this innocent deception, which was at most a sop 
to their vanity. This fiction is said to have been 
perpetuated so late as 1814, in the Imperial Almanac 
of that date ; but no one was deceived thereby, and 
eventually the truth was published. 

Another irregularity in the " act " was the per- 



204 JOSEPHINE. 

mitting of the aide-de-camp, Lemarrois, to sign as 
witness, when he had not arrived at the legal age. 
Either of these irregularities, it has been declared, 
would have invalidated the contract, and have made 
easier for Napoleon the accomplishment of his 
subsequent plans for divorce, had he been aware of 
the facts. But, fortunately, nothing untoward 
occurred to mar their brief day of happiness, before 
the departure of the groom for his distant fields of 
glory. 

Before dismissing the events of this most impor- 
tant period from these pages, let us recur to that 
appointment of commander-in-chief, which, it has 
been alleged, Bonaparte received through the favor 
in which Josephine had been held by Barras. This 
has been effectually disproven by reference to the 
records of the time, and the denial of the one man 
who was then at the head of military affairs in the 
Directory. It was to that great military genius of 
the Directory, the upright, unimpeachable Carnot, 
and not to Barras, that Bonaparte owed this rec- 
ognition of his merit. This statement was made 
by Carnot, during his exile in Switzerland, and is re- 
affirmed in his memoirs * : . . . " It is not true that 
Barras proposed Bonaparte for the Italian campaign ; 
it was I, myself. If he had failed, upon my 
shoulders would have been foisted the responsibility ; 
but he succeeded, and Barras claims the credit. . . ." 
There was nothing unusual in the appointment : the 

* " Memoires Historiqiies et Militaires sur Carnot " ; Paris, 1824. 



JOSEPHINE. 205 

young General was in constant communication with 
the Directory, after the 13th Vendemiaire ; for six 
months he was laboring indefatigably to reorganize 
the Army of the Interior ; his plans for the Italian 
campaign had been examined and adopted ; — who 
more likely than he, their author, to succeed in 
carrying them out ? In truth, who else than he, 
what genius less than his, could bring about their 
accomplishment ? 

In short, a concensus of contemporary opinion gives 
a verdict opposed to the claims of Barras as the dis- 
coverer of this great military adept and the pro- 
moter of his fortunes. He was naturally jealous 
that one nominally second in command should have 
risen so far above him : envy and malice supplied 
the weapons. Josephine became the unconscious 
instrument for attacking and wounding this giant 
whom he could not overthrow. Bourrienne, who 
later became the private secretary of Napoleon, and 
has written his memoirs, which are in the main re- 
liable, says of the marriage : , . . " One day, at 
breakfast, Bonaparte called my attention to a young 
lady who sat opposite to him, and asked what I 
thought of her. The way in which I answered his 
question seemed to give him much pleasure. He 
then talked a great deal to me about her, her family, 
and her amiable qualities ; he told me that he 
should probably marry her, as he was convinced 
that the union would make him happy. I also 
gathered from his conversation that his marriage 
with the young widow would probably assist him 



206 JOSEPHINE. 

in gaining tlie objects of his ambition. His con- 
stantly increasing influence with her had ah^eady 
brought him into contact with the most influential 
persons of that epoch. . . . He remained in Paris 
only ten days after his marriage, which took place 
on the 9th of March, 1796. It was a union in which 
great harmony prevailed, notwithstanding occa- 
sional slight disagreements. Bonaparte never, to 
my knowledge, caused annoyance to his wife."* 

''Madame Bonaparte possessed personal graces 
and mauy good qualities. I am convinced that all 
who were acquainted with her must have felt bound 
to speak well of her ; to few, indeed, did she ever 
give cause for complaint. In the time of her great 
power she did not lose any of her friends, because 
she forgot none of them. Benevolence was natural 
to her, but she was not always prudent in its exer- 
cise. Hence her protection was often extended to 
persons who did not deserve it. Her taste for 
splendor and expense was excessive, and this prone- 
ness for luxury became a habit which seemed 
constantly indulged without any motive. What 
scenes have I not witnessed when the moment for 
paying the tradesmen's bills arrived. . . She always 
kept back from Napoleon one-half their claims, 
and the discovery of this exposed her to new re- 
j)roaches. How many tears did she shed which might 
easily have been spared." . . . 

Meneval, Bourrienne's successor as private 

* " Memoirs of JTapoleon Bonaparte," by Louis Antome Fauvelet 
de Boiirrienne, his Private Secretary. 



JOSEPHIKE. 207 

secretary to Bonaparte, confirms this testimony to 
the gentleness and grace of Josephine : . . . " She 
had the soft abandonment, the supple and elegant 
movements, and the graceful carelessness of the 
Creoles. Her temper was always the same. She 
was gentle and kind, affable and indulgent with 
every one, knowing no difference with persons. 
She had neither a superior mind, nor much learn- 
ing ; hut her exquisite politeness, her full acquaint- 
ance with society, with the Court, and with their 
innocent artifices, made her always know at need 
the best thing to say or to do." * 

The women who have left on record their impres- 
sions, either in contemporary letters or in memoirs 



* Said the observant Talleyrand, when asked about her : . . . 

" Avait-elle de V esprit ? ^^ Elle s'en passait superieurement Men.'''' 
Says Madame de Eemusat: " Without being precisely pretty, she pos- 
sessed many personal charms : her features were delicate, her ex- 
pression was sweet ; her mouth was very small, and concealed her 
bad teeth ; her complexion was rather dark, but with artificial aids 
she remedied that defect. Her figure was perfect ; her limbs flex- 
ible and delicate, her movements easy and elegant. La-Fontaine's 
lines could never have been more fitly applied than to her — ^ JEt la 
grace, plus belle encore que la beaute ! . . . She dressed with perfect 
taste, enhancing the elegance of whatever she wore. . . . To all 
her other qualities she added extreme kindness of heart, a remarkably 
even temper, and great readiness to forget a wrong that had been done 
her." And Miot de Melito, a partisan of Joseph Bonaparte's, who 
was not too well disposed towards Josephine: . . . "No woman has 
united so much kindness to so much of natural grace, or has done 
more good with more pleasure than she did. She honored me with 
her friendship, and the remembrance of the benevolence she has 
shown me, to the last moment of her too short existence, will never 
be effaced from my heart." 



208 JOSEPHINE. 

published after their demise, have been less just to 
one of their own sex — as is most natural — than the 
men. But even those who were devoured with 
envy at her high position, who were obliged to 
accept unwillingly subordinate stations in her court, 
have testified to her unfailing goodness, sweetness 
of disposition, and her bounty. 

We are not aware of any existing portrait of 
Josephine, of any bust or drawing, of the period 
preceding her second marriage, but this portrait- 
mosaic from the hands of her contemporaries, suf- 
ficiently limns her features and her characteristics. 
Her eyes were deep blue, her hair brown, not over 
luxuriant, her complexion dark, her mouth small, 
the lips parted in a smile of exceeding sweetness, 
the nose with arched and sensitive nostrils, and in- 
clined to retrousse. She was not a beauty, although 
she had more than fulfilled the promise of her youth, 
as we have seen her at Martinique, and on her 
arrival in France. She could not compare in re- 
spect to mere personal attractions with Mme. Tallien, 
nor with Napoleon's sister, Pauline, later a reign- 
ing belle ; but Josephine completely realized one's 
ideal of an attractive, fascinating woman, with 
an air of distinction about her that impressed all 
who met her, particularly Bonaparte, on his first 
acquaintance, who had from birth a penchant to- 
wards the aristocracy. 

Such was Josephine at the period when, the bride 
of Napoleon, she was left alone in Paris to await 
the tidings from the seat of war. And they came, 



JOSEPHINE. 209 

hot and fast, one letter sometimes overtaking the 
other on the road ; letters full of fire and passion, 
filled with love, with thoughts of her, to the exclu- 
sion of every other woman, of almost every other 
theme. Leaving Paris on the twenty-first of March, 
twenty days passed by before the Directory received 
any news of their newly-appointed commander of 
the armies of Italy. 

But missives to his wife came by every post. He 
was going forth to fight, only that he might win 
her approval ; to make peace, only that he might 
the sooner have her with him. Every mile of the 
road to Italy that he traversed was filled with his 
laments ; the country was hateful to him, because 
it stretched, continually broadening, between him and 
his love. " By what art " (he wrote from the scene 
of his first triumphs) ' ' have you learned to captivate 
all my faculties, to concentrate in yourself my whole 
being ? To live for Josephine. . . . That is the 
story of my life. I am dying to join you. Fool ! 
... I don't see that I am only going farther away. 
How many lands and countries separate us ! How 
long before you will read these words, which so 
feebly express the emotions of the heart over which 
you reign ! " "To deny Bonaparte's passionate love 
for Josephine in 1Y96," says one who met them inti- 
mately, "would be to deny the evidence." Even Sir 
Walter Scott, by no means an admirer of Napoleon, 
grudgingly admits the genuineness of this passion : 
. . . "A part of his correspondence with his bride 
has been preserved, and gives a curious picture of a 



210 JOSEPHINE. 

temperament as fiery in love as in war. The lan- 
guage of the conqueror who was disposing states at 
his pleasure, and defeating the most celebrated 
commanders of his time, is that of an Arcadian 
shepherd." And again, Mme. de Remusat : . . . 
" I have seen letters from Napoleon to Mme. Bona- 
partQ, written at the time of the first Italian cam- 
paign, which are very singular, . . . The writ- 
ing is almost illegible ; they are ill-spelt ; the style 
is strange and confused But, there is in them such 
a tone of passionate feeling ; the expression is so 
animated, and at the same time so poetical ; they 
breathe a love so different from mere amours, that 
there is no woman who would not have prized such 
letters. . . . They form a striking contrast with 
the graceful, elegant and measured style of those 
of his wife." 

''At this time," says another, ''Bonaparte was 
much more in love with his wife than she was with 
him. He adored her ; she was but moderately 
touched by his fiery transports." 

This, we are constrained to believe, was true at 
the beginning of their marital relations. Napoleon 
had won her perforce, as it were ; had compelled 
her to accept his love, his devotion, his homage, 
even. She was bewildered by a passion which she 
did not then understand, which swept her away in 
an impetuous flood, which brought to her feet the 
offerings of a heart unsullied, the treasures of a 
world new-conquered. 

These love-letters of the grreat General have been 



JOSEPHINE. 211 

preserved ; * they attest the most ardent passion, 
the tenderest devotion. . . . One of the first depicts 
his despair in glowing colors : . . . " Every moment 
takes me farther away from you, and every moment 
I feel less able to endure the separation. You are 
ever in my thoughts ; my fancy tires itself in trying 
to imagine your present occupation. If I picture you 
sad, my heart is wrung and my grief increased. If 
happy and merry with your friends, I blame you 
for so soon forgetting the three days' painful sepa- 
ration ; in that case you are frivolous, not capable 
of deep feeling. So, as you see, I am hard to 
please. . . . When I am asked if I have rested well, 
I cannot answer until a messenger brings me word 
that you have rested well. The illness or anger of 
men affect me only so far as I imagine they may 
have affected you." 

And later in the year, after successive victories 
have perched upon his banners : . . . " At length, 
my adored Josephine, I live again. Death is no 
longer before me, and glory and honor are still in 
my breast. The enemy is beaten at Areola. To- 
morrow we will repair the blunder of Vaubois, who 
abandoned Kivoli. In eight days Mantua will be 
ours, and then thy husband will fold thee in his 
arms, and give thee a thousand proofs of his ardent 
affection. I shall proceed to Milan as soon as I can : 
I am a little fatigued. I have received letters from 
Hortense and Eugene. I am delighted with the 

* ^' Correspondance Inedite, Officielle et Confidentielle, de Napo- 
leon Bonaparte : ^'' Paris, 1819. 



212 JOSEPHINE. 

children, I will send you their letters as soon as I 
am joined by my household, which is now somewhat 
dispersed. . . . We have made five thousand pris- 
oners and killed at least six thousand of the enemy. 
Adieu, my adorable one. Think of me often. When 
you cease to love your Achilles ; when your heart 
grows cool towards him, you will be very cruel, very 
unjust. But I am sure you will always continue 
my faithful mistress, as I shall ever remain your 
fond lover. Death alone can break the union which 
sympathy, love and sentiment have formed. Let 
me have news of your health. ... A thousand and 
a thousand kisses." 

But, though drawn to Paris by his affections, 
frenzied by the recollection of his bride of less than 
two weeks left behind him, his ardor was not 
quenched, rather stimulated, at the thought of what 
was before him. He reached his command, finding 
the army disorganized, spiritless, without shoes, 
almost destitute of provisions. He at once set about 
its reorganization, in twenty days had it in condition 
to march ; within three weeks from leaving Paris 
had gained his first victory, at Montenotte. The 
letters he wrote almost daily to his wife were full of 
love, of passionate devotion : but not a word about 
his exploits, accomplished or in contemplation. The 
processes of his mind were conducted in secret : no 
one but himself was cognizant of his plans, his pro- 
jected movements. The lover and the militarist are 
strangely mingled in the same individual. In all 
his ravings, in all his tender epistles, he confines 



JOSEPHINE. 213 

himself to the expression of his passion. His duty 
to mistress and to country were things apart. He 
would not fail one or the other ; he was equally 
devoted to both ; but neither was entitled to his 
whole heart. And yet to each he gave the energies, 
the attention, of his entire being ; there were two 
men combined in that one entity : the lover, ab- 
sorbed in his passion ; the warrior, permeated by the 
love of glory and country. His nature fed upon the 
material at hand ; he loved with all the intensity of 
his ardent nature ; he fought with all the energy of 
one inspired. " Napoleon found the Kepublic 
abhorrent of her guillotine, loving her army, . , . 
risen in mad wrath to deliver her from slavery, 
from invasion, all aroused, enraged, with intense 
patriotism, impatiently awaiting a leader " — who 
came. . . . All the world loves a lover — and a leader. 
In Napoleon, his soldiers found both combined. 
Aroused as he was, by love, by thirst for glory, his 
magnetic presence drew them ; his dominant person- 
ality impelled them. He took what Republican 
France had prepared, what she had assembled, 
took it, rough and inchoate as it was, moulded it, 
beat it into shape, and hurled it on to victory. 

"Who was this newly-risen star, this young gen- 
eral, sent out to supersede old and tried veterans, 
who had been unable to make headway against 
the Austrian armies, — at least, of late : Kellerman, 
Augereau, Massena ? The astonished soldiers asked 
this question but once ; his own deeds answered it : 
he was their leader, their born commander ; they 



214 JOSEPHINE. 

followed him gladly, and ever to new and newer 
triumph. A month of silence, during which no 
tidings reached the impatient Directory from their 
general. But then there burst upon their aston- 
ished ears, like a thunder-clap, the victory of Mon- 
tenotte, gained on the twelfth of April. Scarcely 
had this message awakened and electrified the capital, 
than there came another, the victory of Millesimo. 
next of Dego, then of Mondovi. Four victories in 
the space of ten days ; the King of Sardinia com- 
pelled to abandon his Austrian allies and to place 
all his fortresses at the orders of the French com- 
mander. Of the first victory, Mme. Bonaparte 
received the information, in common with all Paris, 
from the columns of the Moniteur. She had retired 
with the love-letters of her hero under her pillow, 
never dreaming that she would awake, next morn- 
ing, and find his name in every mouth. During 
the month succeeding the reception of this news, or 
from the twentieth of April to the twentieth of May, 
Josephine was the recipient of attentions that would 
have gladdened the heart of any woman. She was 
the most famous woman then in France ; the wife 
of the victorious general, the best-beloved of the 
most highly-honored man of France. 

While the slow-moving couriers were carrying the 
tidings to Paris, Napoleon was pushing on ; the 
tenth of May he forced the passage of the Adda, 
which gave him Lombardy, and on the fifteenth he 
entered Milan. His plan of campaign was vindi- 
cated ; he had fallen upon the enemy from the rear ; 



JOSEPHINE. 215 

he had penetrated to the heart of the disputed coun- 
try, had divided the forces of the Austrians and the 
Piedmontese. Modena, Naples, Parma, the Pope, 
all hastened to conclude a peace or beg an armistice. 
In the Moniteur of the 25th of April appeared the 
first official report from headquarters, rendered with 
a dignified simplicity that delighted the Directory. 
Two days after a second despatch announced an- 
other victory, and the next day another. Impelled 
by the popular patriotism, the Directory addressed 
to their young general its felicitations, in the name 
of the nation. Carnot,^ proud of his protege and 
delighted that he had been the means of bestowing 
upon France this new leader, wrote to Bonaparte : 
" The eyes of all France, of all EurojDe, are fixed upon 
you and your army." This was indeed true, for of 
the other armies of France : of the North, of the 

* Carnot, L. N. M., French statesman and tactician; born 1*753; 
in 1791 a deputy ; voted for the execution of Louis XVIth ; 1793, head 
of Committee of Public Safety ; organizer of victory, under whose guid- 
ance tlie fourteen armies created by tlie rising of tlie nation en masse, 
repelled the Austrians and Prussians, and quelled the Vendean insur- 
rection. He was so completely absorbed in the defense of his country, 
that he " was hardly cognizan t of tlie atrocities going on around him ; ' ' 
1795, tooli his seat as one of the 500 ; 1796, planned the campaign in 
Italy, which Bonaparte afterwards changed to his own, taking the 
material at hand. After the coup cVetat of the 18th Fructidor, con- 
demned to transportation, but escaped to Switzerland, returning after 
the 18th Brumaire ; was appointed minister of war in 1800, but was un- 
able to agree with Bonaparte, and resigned. In Jan., 1814, he rallied 
to the assistance of Bonaparte, wlio is said to have remarked," I have 
known you too late." After tlie rout of Waterloo, "he alone retained 
his self-possession." Died 1823. 

President Carnot, assassinated in 1894, was his grandson. 



216 JOSEPHINE. 

Sambre, of the Khine, of the Alps, not one but was 
in a state of inactivity. The joy and gratitude of 
the people reached its climax when there arrived 
from the seat of war the intrepid Junot, Bonaparte's 
aide-de-camp, with twenty-two flags captured in 
Piedmont. A great festival was arranged which 
took place in the Luxembourg, and at which the 
wife of the victorious general was the center of at- 
traction, the cynosure of every eye. At this Festi- 
val of the Victories, Madame Bonaparte, who was 
much admired, shared the scepter of popularity with 
Mmes. Tallien and Recamier. ' ' Although she was 
less fresh and brilliant, yet, thanks to the regularity 
of her features, the wonderful grace of her figure, 
and her agreeable expression, she too was beauti- 
ful." 

But two months had passed since Josephine had 
cast her lot with the obscure general of artillery ; 
he had departed from her without noise or ostenta- 
tion, he silently went to take the command assigned 
him ; with that command he had performed such 
deeds as attracted the attention of the world ; he 
was famous among the commanders of the age ; she 
too shared in the reflected glory of his feats of 
arms. 



JOSEPHINE. 217 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE LITTLE HOUSE, RUE CHANTEEEINE. 

The Citizeness Bonaparte, now the adored of the 
Parisian populace, they lovingly called " Notre 
Dame des Victoires. Her influence upon the fortunes 
of her husband was recognized by them as benefi- 
cent. She was his guiding star. Not alone did she 
share in his glory ; she had contributed to it ; she 
was his talisman, his sovereign lady. Never did 
knight-errant or paladine worship with greater fer- 
vor at the shrine of his beloved, at the feet of his 
chosen one cast with greater joy the tokens of his 
victories. Yet, through it all, she bore herself with 
sweetest graciousness ; she was unchanged, un- 
touched by pride or vanity. Her knight had left her 
in the domicile in which he had first seen his heart's 
mistress. There she continued to reside, in the little 
house, Rue Chantereine. 

It no longer exists, this abode of Josephine when 
she was sole possessor of the heart of Bonaparte ; 
its very site has been a matter of dispute ; yet how 
replete with interest its walls would be, could we 
but view them at the present time ! For here they 
loved ; at least one was beloved, the other adored. 
Here they first tasted the sweets of conjugal af- 



218 JOSEPHINE. 

fection ; here the first news was brought to Jose- 
phine of her husband's victories. Alas, that it should 
have been effaced, that those walls which once en- 
vironed them in their greatest happiness, should no 
longer testify, though mutely, to the vanished occur- 
rences that here transpired ! Later, when Napoleon 
shall have returned from Italy, the little house will 
be honored by a change of name ; the street in 
which it stood be called, instead of Chantereine, la 
Eue de la Victoire — the Street of Victory. 

The house, when Bonaparte first met his future 
wife in its reception-room, was but scantily fur- 
nished ; yet everything was tasteful and pretty ; the 
" furniture of mahogany and the yellow wood of 
Guadeloupe. The low bed in her small chamber was 
daintily draped, and the room ornamented with a 
harp and a marble bust of Socrates. The drawing- 
room, with the exception of a Eenaud piano, was 
chiefly furnished with mirrors." 

It maybe believed that the turn in Bonaparte's fort- 
unes enabled his wife to refurnish and adorn their 
home ; but she did not abandon it for a better and 
larger house. She was well content with her sur- 
roundings, though extravagant in dress and in 
personal adornment. She was too content, in truth, 
with her home in the Rue Chantereine, and not all 
the protestations of her lover-husband could for a 
while move her to go to him. Letter after letter 
arrived, filled with pictures of his desolate life with- 
out her, the object of his affections ; of the barren- 
ness of triumphs which he would fain have her share 



JOSEPHINE. 219 

with him. At first she refused to be moved by 
them, replying coldly or vaguely to his entreaties, 
until finally his anger, even simulated jealousy, was 
aroused. He ceased to entreat, he commanded ; 
and, though reluctantly, and with tears, she finally 
prepared to journey to Italy. Her indifference 
seems strange to one unacquainted with her indo- 
lent nature, her love of ease, her liking for Paris. 
" Her grief was extreme when she saw that she could 
no longer postpone her departure. . . She would have 
given the palace at Milan, that was made ready for 
her ; she would have given all the palaces in the 
world for her little house in the Eue Chantereine. " 
Says Marmont : " Bonaparte, however occupied 
he may have been with his greatness, was continually 
thinking of his wife. He often spoke to me of her, 
and of his love, with all the frankness, fire and illu- 
sion of a very young man." 

Bonaparte constantly carried with him a portrait 
of Josephine, painted by the artist Isaby, at the time 
of their marriage. It was then the most precious 
of his possessions ; he regarded it as his talisman. 
The glass covering this miniature was broken, by 
accident, and he regarded this as an omen of evil 
tidings, saying to Marmont: " My wife is ill, or 
she is unfaithful ; " in his anxiety and jealousy re- 
verting at once to the object of his affections ; and 
not till he had received assurance of her health and 
safety, by special courier, was his distress allayed. 

" In this love," says another contemporary, 
" which has been said to be the only one that 



220 JOSEPHINE. 

touched his heart, all the fire and flame of his master- 
ful nature showed itself. " In April he wrote : . . . 
" 0, my adorable wife ; I do not know what fate 
awaits me, but if it keeps me longer from you I 
shall not be able to endure it ; my courage will not 
hold oat to that point. There was a time when I 
was proud of that courage ; and when I thought of 
the harm that men might do me, of the lot that my 
destiny might reserve for me, I looked at the most 
terrible misfortunes without alarm. But now the 
thought that my Josephine may be in trouble, that 
she may be ill ; and above all, the cruel, fatal 
thought that she may love me less, inflicts my soul 
with torture, stops the beating of my heart, makes 
me sad and dejected, robs me of even the courage of 
fury and despair. I often used to say : Man can do 
no harm to one who is willing to die ; but now, to 
die without being loved by you, without this cer- 
tainty, is the torture of hell. ... It seems to me 
as if I were choking. My only companion, you 
who have been chosen by fate to make with me the 
painful journey of life : the day when I shall no 
longer possess your heart will be that in which for me 
the world shall have lost all warmth, all attractive- 
ness. . . . But I will stop, my own, my soul is sad. 
I am tired, my mind is exhausted ; I am sick of 
men : I have good reasons for hating them, for they 
separate me from my love." 

Lovers are the same the wide world over ; there 
is a sameness in all love-letters, of whatever race, 



JOSEPHINE. 221 

degree or birth their writer may have been. They 
are but the vaporings of the passion that, some time 
or other, seizes upon and possesses all men. They 
are rarely the genuine expressions of the soul ; 
rather of the distorted imagination. So far as man's 
love could be genuine and true, Bonaparte's love 
was ; for the time he was completely possessed by it. 
That it came to an end, that he was no longer 
swayed by the impulse of a fine passion, was a mat- 
ter of course. But it lasted long — for several months. 
That is a long while, for such a passion — and such a 
man. 

As for Josephine, says one who met them both at 
this period : '' In his presence she seemed to feel 
more embarrassment and surprise than love. . . . 
She preferred enjoying her husband's triumphs in 
Paris, to joining him in Italy. ..." One writer has 
even said : ... " Josephine found a good deal of 
amusement in Bonaparte's passion. I can hear her 
say, with her Creole accent : ' How funny Bonaparte 
is ! ' This may be an exaggeration, with more or less 
of malice ; but there is no doubt she was less in love 
with her husband than he was with her. More 
than this, it is doubtful if she could understand this 
passion, so blind, so absorbing ; it must have wea- 
ried, if it did not even annoy and embarrass her. She 
had not then awakened to its value, could not under- 
stand that at her feet was the heart of a man so 
transcendentally superior to the average of men that 
his love was to be desired above all treasures of 
earth and heaven. She awoke, too late, to a reali- 



222 JOSEPHINE. 

zation of its worth ; of its surpassing preciousness ; 
she lived to regret, with tears and remorse, the pass- 
ing of this passion. . . , Says Madame de Remusat : 
... " Possibly the cold reception with which his 
ardent feelings were met, had its influence upon, and 
at last benumbed him. Perhaps he would have been 
a better man, if he had been more, and especially 
better, loved." Perhaps ; yes, probably ; but it was 
not her fault that she did not understand. She was 
light-hearted and even frivolous. She had become 
accustomed to accepting the homage of men as a 
passing tribute, merely, to her charms, her position ; 
not to be taken seriously. But here was a man who 
had taken her most seriously, who was terribly in 
earnest, who, having acquired the right to demand 
her allegiance, did demand it, and more : exacted 
love in equal measure for his own. No doubt it 
wearied her, for, though she could return affection, 
and was sensible to the most generous impulses, she 
could not rise to the heights of a passion superlative, 
like this, in its intensity. 

No wonder that he reproaches her with being cold 
and unresponsive : , . . " Your letters . . . one 
would think they had been written after we had been 
married fifteen years. They are full of the friendli- 
ness and the feelings of life's winter . . . What 
more can you do to distress me ? Stop loving me ? 
That you have already done. Hate me ? Well, I 
wish you would. Everything degrades me except 
hatred ; but indifference — Still, a thousand kisses, 
tender, like my heart." 



JOSEPHINE. 223 

This tension cannot endure, it is impossible that 
jealousy shall not supervene ; it does ; he threatens 
her, with all the frenzy of a wronged and outraged 
lover. "What are you doing? Why do you not 
come to me ? If it is a lover that detains you, beware 
Othello's dagger." In his heart he knew it was no 
lover ; but lovers do not consult their reason ; they 
cannot ; reason has fled. 

Neither threats nor suspicions moved her until 
the last moment, when, Junot and her husband's 
brother, Joseph, united in persuading her to accom- 
pany them to Italy. She had feigned sickness, had 
written him of a possible pregnancy as the cause of 
her delay, at news of which he was filled with re- 
morse, at the same time with rapture. He wrote to 
Joseph : . . . . 

" My friend, I am in despair about my wife ; the 
only creature in the world whom I love is ill, and I am 
oppressed with the most gloomy forebodings because 
of her condition. See her, I beseech you, and tell 
me exactly how she is ... . Reassure me, tell me 
the truth. ... I am alone, given over to fears and 
ill-health ; nobody writes to me, and I feel deserted 
by all, even by you. If my wife is able to stand the 
journey, I desire that she should come to me, for I 
need her. I love her to distraction, and I can no 
longer endure this separation. If she has ceased to 
love me, my mission on earth is finished. I leave 
myself in your hands, my best of friends, and I be- 
seech you to so arrange matters that my courier will 
not be obliged to remain in Paris more than six 



224 JOSEPHIiqiE. 

hours, to hasten his return with the news which 
will give me new life." 

It was at this time that Bonaparte wrote his wife 
the longest, the most eloquent, the most passionate 
of his epistles. It was dated 

ToKTO]srA,MiDi, le 27 Prairial, An IV. de la Republique 

(15tli June, 1796). 

'' To Josephine — 

" My life is a perpetual nightmare. — A black pre- 
sentiment makes even breathing difficult. I am no 
longer alive ; I have lost more than life, more than 
happiness, more than peace ; I am almost without 
hope. I am sending you a courier. He will stay 
only four hours in Paris, and then will bring me your 
answer. Write me at least ten pages ; that is the only 
thing that can console me in the least. You are ill ? 
You love me ; I have distressed you ; you are with 
child, and I do not see you. This thought re- 
proaches me. I have treated you so ill that I do 
not know how to set myself right again in your 
eyes. ... I have been blaming you for staying in 
Paris, and all the time you have been ill. Forgive 
me, my sweet ; the love with which you have filled 
me has deprived me of my reason, and I fear I 
shall never recover it. For it is a malady from 
which there is no recovery. My forebodings are so 
gloomy that all I ask is to see you, to press you to 
my heart for two hours, and that we may die to- 
gether. . . . Who is taking care of you ? I sup- 
pose that you have sent for Hortense. I love the 



JOSEPHINE. 225 

child a thousand times better, since I think that she 
may be able to console you a little. As for me, I 
am without consolation, rest, hope, until I see again 
the courier whom I am sending to you, and until 
you explain to me in a long letter just what is the 
matter with you and how serious it is. 

"If there were any danger I assure you that I 
should at once leave for Paris. . . . Josephine, 
how could you allow so long a time to go by 
without writing me ? Your last brief letter was 
dated the third of the month (22d May ; doubtless 
she had written, but her letters had gone astray). 
However, I carry it with me always in my pocket. 
Your letters and your portrait are ever before my 
eyes. 

" I am nothing without you. . . . Ah, Josephine, 
if you could have known my heart, would you have 
allowed so long a time to go by before leaving, or if 
you had not lent ear to those who would detain you ? 
I suspect all the world ; everybody about you. . . . 
I calculate that you will leave about the fifth and 
arrive at Milan on the fifteenth (4:th of May and 
3d of June). 

" Josephine, if you love me, if you believe that 
everything depends upon your preservation, upon 
your safe arrival, be very careful of yourself. 
Travel by short stages ; write me at every stopping- 
place, and send the letters on in advance. ... I 
think upon your illness night and day. Without 
appetite, without sleep, without interest in any- 
thing : friendship, glory, country ; it is you, you ; 
15 



226 JOSEPHINE. 

and the rest of the world no more exists than if it 
were annihilated. 

"I value honor for your sake, victory because it 
gives you pleasure ; if it were not so I should have 
left all and cast myself at your feet. Sometimes 
I say : I alarm myself without cause ; she is already 
on the w^ay. . . . Vain thought ; you are still in 
your bed, still suffering, more beautiful, more in- 
teresting, more adorable ; you are pale, your eyes 
more languishing. . . . Truly fate is cruel, she 
strikes me through you. 

" In your letter, my friend, take care to assure me 
that you are convinced that I love you beyond con- 
ception ; that you are persuaded that all my time is 
consecrated to you, that not an hour passes without 
thoughts of you ; that the idea never occurs to me 
to think of another woman ; that they are all with- 
out grace, beauty and wit ; that you, you alone, have 
absorbed all the faculties of my soul . . . that my 
soul is in your body, and the day in which you 
shall change, or cease to love me, will be that of 
my death ; that nature, the earth, is only beautiful 
because you inhabit it. ... If you believe not all 
that, if your love is not convinced, affected, then 
you grieve me, you love me not. . . . There is 
a magnetic fluid between those who love. (Do 
not all lovers believe this, and declare that 
occult influences are exerted for their benefit 
alone ?) 

" You know that I could not endure the thought 
of another lover, still less to suffer one to exist : to 



JOSEPHINE. 227 

tear out his heart and to see him would be one and 
the same thing. . . . 

"But I am sure and proud of your love. ... A 
child as adorable as its mother will be born and will 
pass several years in your arms. Unlucky I must 
content myself with a single day. A thousand 
kisses upon your eyes, upon your lips. . . . Ador- 
able woman, what is the secret of your influence ? 
I am very sick on account of your illness ; I have 
already a burning fever. Do not detain the courier 
more than six hours, that he may promptly return 
bearing the cherished letter of my queen. 

"KB." 

He had written her in April, shortly after de- 
spatching a letter to his brother Joseph : 

" My Sweet Friend. . . . 

" My brother will hand you this letter. For him I 
have the liveliest friendship. ... I have written 
Barras to name him consul in some port of Italy. . . . 
I recommend him to you. 

" I have received your letter of the 16 th and 21st 
(5th and 10th of April). All the days in which you 
did not write me : what did you, then ? Yes, my 
friend, I am not jealous, but sometimes disturbed. 
Come to me quickly ; I warn you, if you delay, 
you will find me ill. The fatigues and your 
absence are too much at one time. 

" Your letters are all the pleasure my days contain ; 
and my happy days are not frequent. Junot goes 



228 JOSEPHINE. 

to Paris with twenty-two flags. You ought to 
return with him, do you understand ? . . . Unhap- 
piness without remedy, sorrow without consolation, 
continued suffering and suspense, if I have the mis- 
fortune to see him return alone, my adorahle 
friend. . . . He will see you, he will breathe the 
same air with you, perhaps you will accord him the 
inestimable privilege of kissing your cheek, while I 
am alone, and far, very far away. But you will 
return with him, is it not so ? You will soon be 
here by my side, upon my heart, in my arms. Take 
wings to thyself, come, come ! But journey slowly ; 
for the road is long, bad, and fatiguing, ... I 
have received a letter from Hortense. She is very 
sweet. I am going to write her. I love her dearly, 
and I will soon send her the perfumes she wishes. 

'^N. B." 

Josephine arrived at Milan the last of June, and 
was received with the highest honors. She had 
journeyed in company with Junot and Joseph Bona- 
parte, and not alone with the former, as the Duchess 
of Abrantes has stated. This is confirmed by Joseph 
himself, in his Memoirs. Bonaparte received her 
with rapture, and it is no figure of speech to say 
that all Italy was at her feet. Bat two days they 
were allowed together, then the young General was 
obliged to hasten to avert the threatened catastrophe 
in the field before the advancing Austrian armies. 

But he left his beloved inhabiting a palace, sur- 
rounded by adoring courtiers ; she who but recently 



JOSEPHINE. 229 

had been at the door of want. He left her with the 
assurance that she fully possessed the heart of this 
strange lover, who fought as ardently as he loved ; 
who wrote with one hand the most impassioned 
love-letters, with the other wielded an invincible 
sword. Still, she did not yet understand, or fully 
appreciate, this absorbing passion. We will not dis- 
cuss the question, whether any woman could have 
held in thrall the heart of a man so far above his 
contemporaries, much less a woman whose charms 
were already fading, whose heart was slow to re- 
spond to his passionate pleadings. But at this time 
she possessed it utterly. 

" Once she had arrived at Milan," says Marmont, 
'' General Bonaparte was supremely happy, for 
then he lived only for his wife. For a long time 
this had been the case ; never did a purer, truer, 
or more exclusive love fill a man's heart, or the 
heart of so extraordinary a man." 

He was, it may be needless to repeat, in the 
language of a writer of the time, ''absolutely 
faithful to her, and at this time, when all the 
beauties of Milan were at his feet." We cannot 
but dissent from the additional comment, that 
'' his loyalty to her was partly a matter of love, 
partly of calculation." It was all of love, or the 
signs fail that distinguish dissimulation from recti- 
tude. 

At first delighted, Josephine soon became extreme- 
ly bored, not only by the numerous fetes and festi- 
vals, but by her lover's demonstrative affection. 



230 JOSEPHINE. 

Shs was too kind-hearted and tactful to give out- 
ward expression to this weariness, but he detected 
it and it affected him deeply. 

Leaving her safely and magnificently domiciled 
at Milan, Bonaparte returned to his armies in the 
field, hurling his commands upon the astonished 
Austrians before they were aware of his presence. 
Then followed the victories of Lonato, the last of 
July and 3d of August ; Castiglione, August 5th. 

In the midst of his superhuman labors he yet 
found time for a daily love-letter ; the first soon 
after his departure, the 6th of July : 

"I have whipped the enemy. . . I am dead with 
fatigue. I pray you leave on receipt of this to meet 
me at Verona ; I have need of you, for I believe I 
am going to be very ill. I send a thousand kisses." 

This letter was written at Roverbella ; he could 
not await her, and they did not meet ; but his desire 
to see her continued, as another, dated ' ' Marmirolo, 
l7th July," assures her : 

" I have received your letter, my adorable friend ; 
it has filled my heart with joy. . . . My felicity is to 
be near to you. Without ceasing I pass in review 
the memory of your kisses, your tears, your sweet 
jealousies ; the charms of the incomparable Josephine 
have kindled a constant flame in my heart and in 
my senses. . . . Since I have known you I have adored 
you every day more and more : this goes to prove 



JOSEPHINE. 231 

that La-Bruyere's maxim : Love comes suddenly, is 
false. . . . Show me some of your faults ; be less 
beautiful, less gracious, less tender and good ; above 
all, never be jealous, and never weep, for your tears 
drive me crazy, they fire my blood. . . . Eest well. 
Eegain your health. Eejoin me as soon as you 
possibly can, that we may have more happy days 
together ere death shall part us." 

The day following, another letter, equally filled 
with solicitude, with laments over her continued 
absence from his side. 

"I have passed the whole night under arms. . . . 
I am very uneasy to know how you are, what you 
are doing. I have been in Virgil's village, on the 
lake shore, by moonlight, and not a minute passed 
in which I did not dream of Josephine. . . . The 
enemy has made a sortie ; we drove them back with 
a loss of 500 men. I am well. I am all yours and 
have no pleasure, no happiness, except in your 
society. ... A thousand kisses, as warm as you are 
cold." 

As during the course of the siege of Mantua he 
had visited Virgil's village, " thinking upon his 
mistress in melancholy re very," so it seems his days 
were filled with her. Two days later he complains 
most dolorously that she has not written him during 
that space of time : . . . " Two days without a 
letter from you." 

With the same pen that traces his love-sick epistles 



232 JOSEPHINE. 

he writes his short, terse, vigorous appeals to the 
army ; his announcements to the Directory of 
another victory. Only occasionally does his passion 
manifest itself in these official communications. In 
the month of April, in a despatch to Carnot, he 
thanked him for his attentions to Josephine, recom- 
mending her to him as a sincere patriot, and ' ' whom 
I love to madness." Thus he alternates between 
his love for Josephine and his soldiers ; never neglect- 
ing the one or the other ; calm, intrepid, wisely 
directing the vast operations that are to result in 
the total annihilation of the Austrian armies ; turn- 
ing from these great schemes to write his absent 
wife ; upon his heart wearing her letters and her 
portrait. 

The last of July he arranged for his wife to meet 
him at Brescia, attending to every detail of her 
journey with solicitude for her safety ; but a change 
in Wurmser's movements precipitated Josephine 
into the midst of the contending armies. She 
narrowly escaped capture, she witnessed the horrible 
effects of shot and shell, saw the dead and wounded 
brought from the field of battle, and at one time 
was under fire from a hostile fort. After many 
dangers she reached a place of safety, was joined by 
her husband in the intervals of his arduous duties, 
and received from him continued testimonials of 
his affection. It was at this time that he wrote : 

"Wurmser shall pay dear for the tears he has 
caused you." 



JOSEPHINE. 233 

The tenth of August, after that five-days' cam- 
paign that made him a marked figure for fame, he 
recommenced his letters to his wife. They show 
no diminution of affection, but the same love and 
tender regard. Writing from Brescia, which he 
entered in triumph, he says : 

"My first thought on arrival here is to write to 
you, my adorable Josephine. Your health and your 
image have been the subject of my thoughts during 
all the journey thither. I shall not rest until I 
have received your letters. . . . Adieu, my sweet 
Josephine ; be careful of your health, and think 
often, often of me." 



234 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTER XX. 
napoleon's love-letters. 

After having secured the fruits of his recent 
victories, Bonaparte hastened to Milan, where he 
passed two happy weeks in the society of his wife. 
They were lodged in the palace Serbelloni, residence 
of the duke of the same name, and where they 
received the tributes and homage of the delighted 
Italians. Although but recently in desperate straits 
of poverty, with an army ragged and insufficiently 
supplied, the fortunes of the French had undergone 
a most magical change. Bonaparte was surrounded 
by a brilliant staff of gallant officers : Berthier, 
Murat, Junot, Duroc, Lemarrois, Sulkowski : Muiron 
and Elliot, who were soon to fall at Areola and be 
replaced by Lavalette and Croisier ; all devoted to 
their young general and anxious to gain the good 
graces of his lovely wife. By his side also was the 
young brother of Napoleon, Louis Bonaparte, as 
lieutenant in the dragoons, and who was to sustain 
the most intimate relations with Josephine's family, 
at a later period, by marriage with her daughter. 

At this time shone forth the genius of Napoleon, 
as an organizer of victory and government, as a 



JOSEPHINE. 235 

reconstructer of society, as a king-maker and civic 
ruler, which was only surpassed by his genius as 
a commander of armies. 

In the moral conquest of Italy Bonaparte was 
ably assisted by his wife, who won the hearts of the 
people while he fought their battles. He himself 
has borne testimony to this fact in his famous epi- 
gram : "I win battles, Josephine wins me hearts." 

But it was not long the happy pair were to enjoy 
each other's society, for the exigencies of the war 
called Napoleon again to the field. That he had 
not allowed his love to weaken him or to cause him 
to forget the art of winning battles, was soon shown 
by the victories of Roveredo and Bassano, September 
4th and 8th, which drove his antagonist into Man- 
tua, with the shattered remnant of his army. 

There is in existence a letter of Josephine's which 
is of great value as indicating the relative locations 
of the members of her family at this period: — 

Milan, 6th September, 1796. 

'' M. the Duke of Serbelloni leaves at once for 
Paris, and he has promised me, my dear Hortense, 
to call on you the morning after his arrival. He 
will tell you how often I speak of thee, think of thee, 
and how much I love thee. Eugene shares with you 
these sentiments, my dear daughter ; I love you both 
to adoration. M. Serbelloni will give thee, from 
Bonaparte and myself, some little souvenirs, for 
thee, Emilie (daughter of the Marquise Frangoise de 
Beauharnais) Eugene, and Jerome (the youngest 



236 JOSEPHINE. 

brother of Napoleon, who had been placed in the 
same school with Eugene). 

Kindest remembrances to Mme. Campan, to whom 
I hope to send some beautiful Italian engravings. 
Embrace for me my dear Eugene, Emilie and Jerome. 
Adieu, my dear Hortense, my darling daughter ; 
think often of thy mamma, write her often. 

"Josephine Bonaparte." 

The tenth of September, after the decisive victory 
over the Austrians, Bonaparte writes to Josephine 
a brief account of his gigantic labors : — " The enemy 
has lost, my dear friend, some 18,000 men as pris- 
oners ; the rest are killed or wounded. Wurmser, 
with a column of 1,500 horse and 5,000 infantry, 
had no other recourse than to throw himself into 
Mantua. ... I have been here, my dear Josephine, 
two days, badly lodged, and very much vexed to be 
so far from thee. Wurmser is surrounded. . . . 
The instant this affair is concluded I shall be in thy 
arms. A million times I embrace thee. " 

But enough have been quoted, of these ardent love- 
epistles from Bonaparte to his wife, to show how 
absorbing and all-possessing was the love that held 
him enthralled. He is constantly crying out against 
her coldness and her neglect ; perhaps with reason, 
since she doubtless had more time than he to write 
and did not respond to his numerous communications. 
Josephine's letters to her husband have not been 
preserved, and thus it must be mainly upon his own 
testimony that she is convicted of the charge of 



JOSEPHINE. 237 

coldness and indifference. But the fact that she 
was so acceptable to him when they were together, 
that she so completely satisfied him by her presence, 
seems to refute the charge of indifference. He was 
in love ; love exacts everything, imagines every- 
thing ; is impatient of delay and vexed by apparent 
forgetfulness. Still, there was a basis of reason in 
his complaints ; she was true to her indolent nature ; 
laissez-faire was her motto, and — she was not yet 
deeply in love ! 

Towards the end of September he wrote a most dol- 
orous letter, full of complaints of her coldness : . . . 
" Thy letters are as cold as fifty years of age. . . . 
Tes lettres sont froides comme cinquante ans ; elles 
resemhlant a quinze ans de menage. On y voit 
Vamitie et les sentiments de cet hiver de la vie. Fi ! 
Josephine. . . C^est Men mediant, Men mauvais, 
Men traitre a vous. "... etc. 

No one can deny that this young man was then in 
love ; that his mistress then held exclusive possession 
of a heart devoted entirely to her service. 

Yet, though inextricably enmeshed in love's net, 
he was still the formidable enemy of the Austrian 
armies. Austria put forth all her power to meet 
and crush him ; he met and vanquished her bravest 
generals, her most skilled and experienced officers. 
A new army under Alvinzi, fifty thousand strong. 
Napoleon met with his forty thousand braves, and, 
in the desperately- contested battle of Areola, lasting 
three days, defeated them. This hardly-won battle 



238 JOSEPHINE. 

took place on the 15th, 16th and 17th of November. 
Bonaparte triumphantly entered Verona, his troops 
and himself worn out with the fatigue of constant 
marching and fighting. Yet he allowed little time 
to elapse before sending a letter to Josephine, dated 
Verona, 24th November, 1796. , . . "Soon, my dear 
one, I hope to be in your arms. All is well. Wurm- 
ser was defeated yesterday under Mantua. Thy 
husband only needs Josephine's love to make him 
perfectly happy.'' 

Wishing to give her a happy surprise, and having 
twenty-four hours at his disposal, Bonaparte hast- 
ened to Milan. His disappointment, his rage, may 
be imagined, when he found that she had departed 
for Genoa. Unaware of his intended visit, Josephine 
had accepted a pressing invitation from the author- 
ities to visit the city of Genoa, where she was received 
with a magnificence unsurpassed ; where she was a 
veritable queen. Napoleon did not reflect that this 
glorious reception was a tribute to himself, that in 
honoring the wife of the conqueror, the Genoese 
were paying the highest compliment to the victorious 
general. His letters show the spirit in which he 
took her absence : . . . 

"Milan, 27th November. 

'' I reached Milan ; I burst into your room. I 
had left all to see you, to fold you in my arms. . . . 
You were not there. . . . You no longer care for 
your dear Napoleon. ... I shall be here till the 
ninth, during the day. Do not disturb yourself, 
nor interrupt your pleasures ; happiness is for you ; 



JOSEPHINE. 239 

the world is only too happy to give you pleasure ; 
and your husband only is very, very unhappy," 

The next day he wrote : . . . " I can easily under- 
stand that you have no time to write to me. Sur- 
rounded with pleasures and entertainments, you 
would do wrong to make the least sacrifice for 
me, , . . Adieu, adorable woman. Adieu, my 
Josephine. Let fate concentrate in my heart all 
the vexations and griefs ; but give to my Josephine 
days of prosperity and happiness. Who merits them 
more than she ? I open my letter to imprint a kiss 
for thee. 

•'' Ah, Josephine ! . . . Josephine ! 

''Bonaparte." 

But he had no time to waste in idle repinings ; leav- 
ing Milan he hastened again to the field, commencing 
that series of movements that confounded anew the 
Austrian armies and culminated in repeated victories 
for the French. 

The last month of 1796 found another Austrian 
army in the field, under the General Alvinzi, who 
was destined to be no more successful in this attempt 
to combat Napoleon than in the first. 

Bewildered by these successive defeats, yet unwill- 
ing to acknowledge herself vanquished, Austria 
hurled this army of 65,000 men upon the general of 
the Republic. As before, his tactics triumphed ; the 
valor of his brave soldiers prevailed ; the victory of 
Rivoli, 14th January, 1Y97, added another to the 
list of Bonaparte's unbroken chain of triumphs. 



240 JOSEPHINE. 

Soon after, Mantua surrendered, and in quick 
succession came the victories of Faenza, Ancona, 
Loreto, Tolentino. 

Without allowing his enemies any rest, Bonaparte 
turned upon the Papal States, and in two weeks 
forced the Pope to sign a treaty by which the French 
were enabled to fight the Austrians on their own soil. 
This was in February. In March, he forced the 
passage of the Tagliamento (on the nineteenth) ; 
on the twenty-third he had Trieste in his possession. 
The first week of April saw the French army on the 
road to Vienna, and the threat of Bonaparte, that 
he would dictate terms to the Emperor of Austria 
in his own capital, likely to be fulfilled. Only the 
armistice of Leoben, signed on the nineteenth of 
April, saved the capital from invasion. 

The first week in May war was declared against 
Venice, and by the middle of that month was oc- 
cupied, and at the feet of the conqueror ; while 
Genoa was revolutionized as the Ligurian Eepublic. 
The last of June witnessed the proclamation of the 
Cisalpine Rei3ublic, and the French army, in July, 
retired to rest in the Venetian States. During the 
progress of the negotiations with Austria, which 
were slow and tedious, Bonaparte established him- 
self at Montebello, some leagues distant from Milan. 
Here, surrounded by the most beautiful scenery, 
attended by beauties of most distinguished rank, 
who all rendered homage to the honored wife of 
Bonaparte ; visited by the envoys of Austria, of the 
Pope, of the kings of iSTaples and Sardinia ; Bona- 



JOSEPHINE. 241 

parte gathered about him such an assemblage as 
well merited the distinction bestowed by the Ital- 
ians, who called it the Court of Montebello. 

The charming manners of Bonaparte's wife had 
won all classes to her and to him ; her fame was 
already established ; but here she first shone in a 
little court of her own. Here she should have been 
happy, if ever ; her health was re-established ; her 
husband was now with her, and not exposed to the 
terrible vicissitudes of the camp ; while Eugene 
had arrived from Paris to rejoin his beloved parent 
and place himself at the orders of Bonaparte, who 
ever looked upon and treated him as his own son. 
Immediately upon his arrival he was appointed aide- 
de-camp to the general-in-chief, who manifested for 
him a great attachment, in which he was justified 
by the boy's many admirable qualities. He was 
then seventeen years old, of excellent address, loyal, 
good-hearted, courageous, and from the first was 
unalterably devoted to his step- father. 

Josephine had somewhat recovered her pristine 
gayety, and was not so overcome by ennui as in the 
month preceding, when she wrote to her aunt that 
she would rather be an obscure dweller in her be- 
loved Paris, than the recipient of honors in Italy. 
She was bored to death, but admitted that she had 
no reason for it ; for, she adds : "I have the most 
delightful husband in the world ; there is nothing 
I desire that is not mine. My wishes are his con- 
stant care. He is all day in adoration before me, as 
though I were a divinity." His divinity did not 



242 JOSEPHINE. 

appreciate this devotion at its full value, it is feared ; 
and who can say that her subsequent doubts and 
jealousies were not well deserved ? Later, a few 
years, we shall see that the divinities have changed 
places ; on the conjugal pedestal is another divinity, 
namely, Napoleon, and before him prostrate in ado- 
ration, this same Josephine. 

During the time when the Austrians were flying 
before the redoubtable Bonaparte, and while he was 
necessarily absent from his wife, he wrote the last 
of those letters which have given her a place among 
those beloved of the immortals. 

He was obliged to leave her alone at Bologna, 
where she became very sad, wishing to rejoin him, 
despite the fatigues and dangers of the field and 
bivouac, which she was by no means capable of 
enduring. 

Napoleon refused to allow her to accompany him, 
but assured her that she should rejoin him as soon 
the state of the distracted country would allow ; 
meanwhile keeping her informed of his movements 
by daily letters. In one of these he writes : . . . 

"I send you a million kisses. I was never so tired 
of this detestable war as at this moment. Adieu, 
my sweet friend ; think of me." 

The thirteenth of February he adds : 

" I am about setting out to cross the mountains. 
The very first opportunity, I shall have you with 



JOSEPHINE. 243 

me ; that is the most cherished wish of my heart. 
A thousand and a thousand kisses." 

But in this continued separation from her husband 
and children, the constant strain upon her feehngs, 
caused by the alarms and uncertainties of the war, 
plunged Josephine into the deepest melancholy. 
Bonaparte was distressed at the reception of this 
news, and on the sixteenth of February, wrote her : 

" You are sad, you are ill, you wish to return 
to Paris ? Do you not love your friend any more ? 
This thought makes me very unhapiDy. My sweet 
friend, life seems hardly endurable since I have been 
informed of your sadness. ... I pray you take 
care of your health, love me as much as I love 
you, and write me every day. . . . Perhaps I shall 
soon conclude peace with the Pope, and then I shall 
be at your side ; this is the most ardent wish of my 
soul, o . . I give you a hundred kisses. . . . Write 
me by your own hand every day. "... 

This letter was sent by a special messenger ; and 
three days after he wrote again, this time from 
Tolentino, to acquaint her that he had signed the 
treaty with the holy father, and would soon return to 
her at Bologna. . . . He still insisted upon a daily 
letter from her, and if a clay passed without the ex- 
pected epistle, he was uneasy and downcast. 

^' Not one word from your hand to-day. Good 



244 JOSEPHINE. 

God ! What then have I done ? I think only of you; 
I love only Josephine ; live only for my wife ; do not 
I merit better treatment at her hands ? My friend, 
I entreat you, think often of me and write me every 
day. You are sick, or you do not love me. Think 
you my heart is of marble ? . . . You do not know 
me. I cannot believe it of you, you to whom nature 
has given wit, sweetness and beauty ; you who alone 
reign in my heart ; you who well know, without 
doubt, the absolute empire you have over me. . . , 
Write me, think of me, and above all, love me. 
Yours for life. . . ." 

This is the last letter of this period written by 
Bonaparte to his wife ; for he soon rejoined her at Bo- 
logna, and together they went to Milan, where they 
passed happy days in loving companionship. After 
five years of war, the most obstinate of the enemies 
of France was humbled, and sued for peace at the 
hands of this young general of twenty-seven years, 
who at one bound had placed himself above all the 
great captains of his time. 

It was during the long delay consequent upon the 
negotiation of the treaty, which was finally signed 
the lYth October, that Bonaparte planned a diver- 
sion for Josephine in the trip to Venice. The got^- 
ernment of Venice had invited him to visit that 
historic capital ; but for reasons of his own, and of 
which his wife was not cognizant, he declined. In 
language which has been attributed to her, she 
says : " The general well knew how to gild the 



JOSEPHINE. 245 

chains which he had imposed with so much good- 
nature and address, upon those he called his good 
friends, the Italians. ... I spoke Italian passably 
enough ; at least to be able to reply to the compli- 
ments made me, and sometimes to the very weari- 
some speeches with which they honored the ' First 
Citoyenne ' of the French Eepublic." Bonaparte's 
designs were not known to Josephine, as she was 
not then the depositary of his confidence, and it can- 
not be declared against her that she lent herself to 
"gilding the chains" which he was then forging 
for the unhappy Venetians. She was received 
everywhere with acclamation, fetes and processions 
were made in her honor, processions of gondolas on 
the grand canal. The Venetians threw themselves 
at the feet of the wife of the conqueror of Italy, 
hoping to flatter him by these attentions ; at the 
same time paying a tribute of homage to one who 
had gained all hearts by her kindness. 

They vied with the Milanese in their endeavors to 
gratify her every taste, her every ambition ; and 
had it depended upon Josephine alone, the fate of 
Venice would have been more fortunate. The 
sinister designs of her husband were soon made 
manifest ; but not in time to mar the pleasure of 
this auspicious journey. 

After the treaty of Campo Formio had been 
signed, by which Austria ceded immense territory, 
giving to France a frontier on the Ehine, and secur- 
ing to Bonaparte the fruits of his numerous vic- 
tories, Josephine, yielding to a desire to visit the 



246 JOSEPHINE. 

Holy City, and to see her son, Eugene, who was 
there on a mission, parted from Bonaparte and 
went to Rome. 

Her reception there was in accord with her pre- 
vious treatment, in Milan, in Venice ; and this 
homage was bestowed as well upon Josephine, the 
woman of heart and feeling, as upon Madame 
Bonaparte, the wife of the victorious general. 

By this digression, Josephine was not able to 
participate in the homeward journey of Napoleon, 
which was one unbroken series of triumphal proces- 
sions. For a caprice, some have declared, Josephine 
thus renounced the triumphant journey across 
Switzerland and Italy ; but it was rather from a 
desire to embrace her son, and to behold the glories 
of the Eternal City. 

BonajDarte left Milan on the 17th of November, to 
place himself at the head of the congress of Rastadt ; 
thence he was summoned by the Directory to Paris. 
Before his departure he sent to France a flag in- 
scribed upon which was a summary of what had 
been accomplished in the two years' fighting, in the 
succession of most splendid victories. Unlike many 
of his reports from the field, this was no exaggera- 
tion, but "a striking abridgment of the history of 
the Italian campaign." . . . 

''Prisoners, 150,000; 170 standards; 550 pieces 
siege artillery ; 600 field artillery ; 5 pontoon equip- 
ages ; nine 64-gun ships ; twelve 32-gun frigates ; 
12 corvettes ; 18 galleys ; . . . Armistice with the 
King of Sardinia ; convention with Genoa ; armis- 



JOSEPHINE. 247 

tice with the Duke of Parma ; armistice with the 
King of Naples ; armistice with the Pope ; prehmi- 
naries of Leohen ; convention of Montebello with 
the repubhc of Genoa ; treaty of peace with the 
Emperor of Germany at Campo Formio. Liberty 
given to the people of Bologna, Ferrara, Modena, 
Massa- Carrara, La Eomagna, Lombardy, Brescia, 
Bergamo, Mantua, Cremona, part of the Veronese, 
Chiavana, Bormio, the Valteline, the Genoese, the 
Imperial Fiefs, the Departments of Corcyra, of the 
^gean Sea, and of Ithaca. . . . Sent to Paris : 
all the masterpieces of Michael Angelo, Guercino, 
Titian, Paul Veronese, Correggio, Albana, the Car- 
racci, Raphael, and of Leonardo da Vinci." . . . 

As a military commander he had dictated terms 
to the most powerful nations of Europe ; as a ruler 
he had prescribed forms of government to nearly 
all Italy ; he had enriched France with treasures of 
art and replenished her coffers ; he had made her 
armies a terror to the world. 

Of his reception in Paris, when the Luxembourg 
was most magnificently decorated in honor of the 
occasion ; when the Directory assembled there the 
beauty and the fashion, the most powerful and the 
wealthiest, to witness the triumphant return of 
their famous general, — of this ovation to Bonaparte's 
genius, all the world knows, and we will not repeat 
what properly pertains to the history of his own life. 
Josephine was not there to grace the festivities with 
her presence ; she had voluntarily abstained from 
accompanying Bonaparte on his homeward journey ; 



248 JOSEPHINE. 

it was not till he had been for eight days established 
in his house, in the Rue Chantereine, that she re- 
turned, wearied with the long journey, fatigued 
with attentions from those who would fain have 
done her honor j glad to rest a while in the arms of 
her hero, and in the little house where they had first 
tasted the joys of marital affection. 

It was on the 5th of December, 1T9T, that Bona- 
parte reached his home. He still loved his wife, 
but his love had cooled ; at least, it was no longer 
an ardent passion. There had been no indiscretions 
on her part, as some malicious writers have alleged ; 
in truth, may we not go further, and deny that 
there ever was criminal indiscretion — on her part — 
during their marital relations ? This, however, is 
anticipatory of the Egyptian campaign, when they 
were so long separated, and when, without doubt, 
Napoleon was guilty of infidelities, in the land of 
the Pharaohs. 

She had missed the glorious festivities of the 
Luxembourg, when her husband was so eulogized ; 
but she was sated with fetes and receptions ; she 
craved peace and quietude ; she was well content 
with the retirement of their little house in the Rue 
Chantereine. It had been refurnished and enlarged, 
by orders of Josephine, before her departure for 
Italy, at an expense of many thousand francs ; but 
it was still an obscure dwelling for one who had 
brought to his feet the most haughty and powerful 
of the enemies of France. 



^ JOSEPHINE. 249 



CHAPTER XXI. 

BONAPARTE IN EGYPT. 

On the third of January, 1798, a few days after the 
return of Josephine from Italy, the minister of for- 
eign affairs, Talleyrand, gave an entertainment that 
far outshone everything of the kind that had been 
attemj^ted by the Directory. Although Josephine 
had missed the festivity of the Luxembourg, she 
now shared with her glorious husband the honors of 
this occasion. As an attraction, says an observer of 
the ceremonies, she was second only to Bonaparte. 
Talleyrand's ball ''was the beginning of the resto- 
ration ; a revival of the manners and elegance of 
the old regime ; " and who so fitted as the wife of 
Bonaparte to lead the people out of the slough of 
revolutionary manners into the light of elegant 
society ? 

Madame Bonaparte was peculiarly adapted to 
serve in ameliorating the harsh manners of the 
society of that period ; but, if we may believe the 
historians of that time, Napoleon was not. ' ' He was, " 
says Mme. de Remusat, ' ' deficient in manners and 
education ; it seemed as if he must have been 
destined always to live in a tent, where all men are 



250 JOSEPHINE. ^ 

equal, or upon a throne, where everything is per- 
mitted. He did not know how either to enter or 
leave a room, nor how to make a bow, nor how to 
sit down properly. His questions were abrupt, and 
so was his manner of speech. " 

This is shown in his treatment of the celebrated 
Mme. de Stael, who had conceived an enthusiastic 
admiration for the hero of Italy. Far from recipro- 
cating this feeling, Napoleon held her in rather 
light esteem ; her attentions bored and annoyed 
him. It "was at that very ball, the story runs, that 
he so effectually disposed of this ardent admirer and 
cooled her enthusiasm. 

"General," she said, immediately she had been in- 
troduced to him, ' ' what woman do you love best ? " 

"My wife." 

"That is natural; but, whom do you esteem 
most ? " 

" That one who is the best housekeeper," 

"Ah, true; but who do you think is the first 
among women ? " 

"Madame, the one who bears the most children ! " 

There is little wonder that there was ever after an 
enmity between them ; but Napoleon's subsequent 
treatment of this talented woman is a foul blot upon 
his character. 

Either from desire to escape the attentions of the 
people, or from policy, Bonaparte led a retired life, 
going only to those entertainments which were the 
spontaneous offerings of his colleagues and ad- 
mirers. To the Directory he was an object of sus- 



JOSEPHINE. 251 

picion, of envy ; its members saw in this newly- 
risen star a rival who would soon eclipse their own 
glory, — which after all was but a reflection of his 
achievements. It is not strange, then, that they 
should approve and even accelerate his scheme of 
conquest in the Orient. During the whole Italian 
campaign they had surrounded him with spies, had 
watched with burning jealousy his unexampled 
career of conquest and glory ; had even attempted to 
thwart his plans for the aggrandizement of France. 
Napoleon foresaw the decline of his popularity, and 
resolved upon a campaign that should eventually 
revive it. " On the night of the tenth Nivose," says 
his private secretary in his Memoirs, "the Eue 
Chantereine, in which Bonaparte had a small house, 
received, in pursuance of a decree of the Depart- 
ment, the name of Rue de la Victoire. The cries of 
'Vive Bonaparte,' and the incense so prodigally" 
offered up to him, did not, however, seduce him from 
his retired habits. Lately the conqueror and ruler 
of Italy, and now under men for whom he had no 
respect, and who saw in him a formidable rival, he 
said to me one day : ' The people of Paris do not re- 
member anything. Were I to remain here long, 
doing nothing, I should be lost .' . . . When I ob- 
served that it must' be agreeable to him to see his 
fellow-citizens so eagerly running after him, he re- 
plied : ' Bah ! they would crowd as fast to see me if 
I were going to the scaffold.' He wished to be ap- 
pointed a Director, but was debarred on account of 
his age ; and perceiving that the time was not yet 



252 JOSEPHINE. 

favorable for such a purpose, he said to me, on the 
28th January, 1798 : ' Bourrienne, I do not wish to 
remain here ; there is nothing to do. They are un- 
willing to listen to anything. I see that if I linger 
here I shall soon lose myself. Everything wears 
out here ; my glory has already disappeared. This 
little Europe does not supply enough of it for me. 
I must seek it in the East, the fountain of glory.' 
. . . He revolted at the idea of languishing in idle- 
ness at Paris, while fresh laurels were growing for 
him in distant climes. His imagination inscribed 
in anticipation his name on those gigantic monu- 
ments which alone, perhaps, of all the creations of 
men, have the character of eternity. Already pro- 
claimed the most illustrious of living generals, he 
sought to efface the rival names of antiquity by his 
own. If Caesar fought fifty battles, he longed to 
fight a hundred ; if Alexander left Macedon to pene- 
trate to the Temple of Ammon, he wished to leave 
Paris to travel to the cataracts of the Nile. While 
he was thus to run a race with fame, events would, 
in his opinion, so proceed in France as to render his 
return necessary and opportune. His place would 
be ready for him, and he should not come to claim 
it a forgotten or unknown man." 

The little house in the Eue Chantereine became 
the center of unexampled activities : dinners to 
officials, and headquarters for the general who was 
about launching himself into an unknown land, for 
renewed conquest and to reap new laurels. Soon all 
preparations were made, and, accompanied by his 



JOSEPHINE. 253 

wife, Eugene, Bourrienne, Duroc and Lavalette, 
Bonaparte set out for Toulon. The journey was 
more dangerous, and fraught with greater perils, 
than a campaign in the enemy's country, for their 
coach was nearly wrecked on the road. Josephine 
had intended to accompany her husband to Egypt, 
for a sea- voyage had no terrors for one who had 
already traversed the ocean several times ; and 
the climate, she argued, could not affect one born 
beneath a tropical sun. But at Toulon, when about 
to embark, Napoleon forbade her to leave, and she 
sought a retreat for a while at Plombieres, to obtain 
the benefit of its waters. 

The campaign in Egypt, of which all the world 
knows the minutest details, forms no part of this 
history ; except for the fact that it was during the 
absence of Napoleon, and because of it, that occurred 
the crucial event of their lives. 

Napoleon sailed from Toulon on the nineteenth of 
May, 1798. He left the magnificent harbor, which 
he had been instrumental in delivering from the 
hands of the English in '93, on board the great 
frigate, "I'Orient " which was one of the vessels he 
himself rescued at the time when he was simply an 
officer of artillery. . . . On the twelfth of June the 
strong fortresses of Malta were his ; the second of 
July Alexandria was in his possession ; on the twenty- 
first the Battle of the Pyramids :—" Soldiers, from 
the summits of these pyramids forty centuries look 
down upon you ; " — on the twenty- third of July the 
French were at the gates of Cairo. 



254 JOSEPHINE. 

The battle of the Nile took place on the first of 
August, and for a brief period the French rested 
on their rapidly-gathered laurels. Between the first 
of March, 1799, and the middle of June, was con- 
summated the disastrous Syrian campaign. Jaffa 
was taken, St. Jean d'Acre was invested ; on the 
16th of April the battle of Mount Tabor. The 
horrors of this terrible campaign would fill a 
volume, yet form but an episode in the life of the 
extraordinary man with whose fortunes are linked 
those of the one we are following. The siege of 
Acre was raised on the 22d of May, and the 14th 
of June Napoleon reached Cairo, with the remnant 
of his army. In Julj, the 25th, occurred the 
terrible battle of Aboukir, by which the Turkish 
army was annihilated ; but this was little compen- 
sation for the irreparable loss of the fleet, in the 
Bay of Aboukir, in the August preceding. 

About this time Bonaparte received the first news 
from France for several months : that the Austrians 
had driven the French out of Italy ; Macdonald had 
been defeated ; Hoche killed and his army beaten ; 
that France had lost all that he so gloriously gained 
for her ; that she had been driven back to the con- 
dition in which he found her three years before. 

And besides these accumulated tidings of evil, 
news came to him of more terrible import than the 
loss of fleets or armies : which drove to the verge of 
despair this man hitherto so imperturbable. He 
had promised Josephine she should follow him to 
Egypt in the "Pomona," two or three months 



JOSEPHINE. 255 

later ; but that frigate was taken by the Enghsh, 
on her return voyage ; and other things conspired 
to prevent her anticipated departure. That she 
really believed she should take the voyage, is shown 
in a letter written by her to Hortense, while at 
Toulon. While she was at Plombieres she became 
the victim of an accident that nearly ended her life, 
and was the cause of her detention there several 
months. A balcony in which she was sitting gave 
way and precipitated her to the ground, causing 
severe injuries. Hortense was summoned to her 
side, and nursed her mother with assiduous care. 
In the month of September they left the watering- 
place for Paris, and, in accordance with the sug- 
gestions, or the wishes, of Bonaparte, Josephine 
sought out a desirable country property, to which 
they might be able to retire from the fatigues of 
Parisian society. She finally purchased the estate 
of Malmaison, near the village of Rueil, of M. 
Lecoulteux, a member of the council of ancients, 
and paid for it the sum of 160,000 francs, partly 
from her dowry, and partly from funds furnished 
by Napoleon. 

Malmaison, though at that time in very bad con- 
dition, became at once her favorite place of resi- 
dence, and it is more intimately associated with her 
later life than any other. She at once took up her 
abode at Malmaison, alternating between it and her 
city-house in Chantereine Street. At both places 
she received the most distinguished company, and 
endeavored to maintain a little court of the most 



256 JOSEPHINE. 

celebrated men and. women of the day. Her success 
in this respect has been chronicled by a contempo- 
rary, M. Bouilly, * who enumerates such as Bernardin 
St. Pierre, author of ^' Paul and Virginia, " Arnault, 
and Legouve, besides the ladies already familiar to 
us as her friends and associates. She did not forget 
her duties to her absent spouse, nor the perils which 
threatened him from the direction of the Directory ; 
and it was in keeping up her old associations with 
these men that her own character was com- 
promised. 

She ably seconded all the attempts of Napoleon's 
brothers to maintain the popularity of the absent 
general and to prepare the field for his plowing 
when he should return. To this end she kept her- 
self en-rapport with the Directory, attended all their 
entertainments, and graced by her presence all the 
official receptions. She especially cultivated the 
acquaintance and friendship of Madame Gohier, a 
'' lady of austere virtue," wife of one of the most 
influential of the directors. It was through her 
intimacy with her and her knowledge of the plans 
of the Directory, that (it has been conceded) Bona- 
parte was enabled to combat and overthrow this 
same Directory, on his return from Egypt. ' ' This 
woman." says a writer of repute, ''in spite of her 
frivolous appearance, intrigued like an experienced 
diplomatist. . . . Without Josephine, it is probable 
that Bonaparte would never have become Emperor. 
. . . It was in vain that he told her not to talk 

* '■^ Memoires et Souvenirs, ou mes Becapitulations.^' 



JOSEPHINE. 257 

politics, or meddle with affairs ; she was still the 
most efficient aid to his plans, and during his ab- 
sence she prepared the field on which he was to 
show himself master." ... 

Her actions were misconstrued ; she was accused 
of indiscretions, of levity; nay more, of infidelity 
to her husband. These reports were carried to the 
Bonaparte family, and they, being jealous of 
Josephine, and anxious to weaken her influence with 
Napoleon, not only gave them credence, but them- 
selves intrigued against her. Her name was men- 
tioned in connection with that of a young man, 
Charles Bottot, Barras's secretary, who had presumed 
upon her kindness to him at Milan, and assumed to 
be the result of more than ordinary interest what 
was in reality nothing but her universal good-will, 
as towards all who came within her sphere. He had 
been despatched by the Directory as a spy upon 
Bonaparte's movements, and the general, suspecting 
this, treated him with severity. It was not on 
account of any intimacy with his wife, at that time, 
but merely for political reasons, that Bonaparte 
meditated his arrest. 

"On his return from Italy," says the author of 
the Memoirs, " Bonaparte's domestic situation gave 
him some uneasiness. Josephine had kept Bottot 
attached to her, as he was in the employ of Barras, 
and knew all the secrets of the Directory. . , . But 
Madame Bonaparte, though she may have been ex- 
ceedingly unsteady, was never culpable. On his 
return, as she had invited certain persons to her 
17 



258 JOSEPHINE. 

house whom he had forbidden her to see, he came 
to an open rupture with her. In a moment of 
passion he drove her from the house, and gave the 
most positive orders that she was not to be re- 
admitted. In despair, she sought the house of a 
friend, Madame de Chateau-Renard, who finally 
succeeded in getting her back unknown to Bona- 
parte, and who persuaded him to show himself with 
his wife in the Bois de Bologne that afternoon, and 
thus stopped the scandal, which was rapidly spread- 
ing." 

Josephine herself says : " This man, extraordinary 
in everything, was of a furiously jealous disposition ; 
often and much did I suffer from his suspicions. I 
could not see, I could not receive visits from any- 
body, without being subject to the most unfavorable 
interpretation. ... I shall always remember those 
journeys to Italy ; never shall I forget the tears I 
shed." 

An English author, whose prejudices would not 
allow him to take a liberal view of Napoleon, but 
whose estimates are not warped to the extent of 
condemning all with whom he was connected, says 
of Josephine at this period : . . . "She is generally 
charged with levity. . . . I do not pretend to justify 
her altogether ; but she was skilful enough to profit 
by the weakness of certain generals, to attach them 
more thoroughly to her husband's cause. , . . She 
possessed the nicest tact ; her address was incredible, 
especially where partisans were to be gained for 
Bonaparte. She used the ladies of her court to dis- 



JOSEPHINE. 259 

cern the most secret particulars. ... In a word, 
Bonai^arte was never so prosperous, and so well 
served, as during the years he spent with the woman 
who was always his best and most constant friend. 
. . . She flattered all parties (as she frankly says 
in her memoirs), and while she truly delighted in 
works of benevolence and in alleviating sorrow, she 
adroitly drew from the noblesse of the ancienne 
regime most valued and hitherto carefully guarded 
secrets, which were of the utmost assistance to 
Napoleon. 

"She was the great compensator between nobility 
and people. . . . Bonaparte's stay in Egypt began 
to weary her, for she really loved the man, although 
she had begun to experience his despotism. She 
managed his interests in France, and prevented a 
thousand dangers which menaced them. Indeed, it 
would have been impossible for Napoleon to re-enter 
France, had not an attentive and vigilant wife 
managed to avert the storm which was already 
gathering over his head in the port of Frejus," 

These quotations show us, it may be assumed, the 
motive of Josephine in keeping in touch with mem- 
bers of the Directory. There may have been some 
secret reason, and there may have been, as many 
have alleged, a liaison between her and the secre- 
tary of Barras. But, with all respect for the opinion 
of those who have made this matter the subject of 
study, and without presuming to assert that such 
an event could not have transpired, we would sub- 
mit that it was extremely unlikely. There was no 



260 JOSEPHINE. 

motive for such a course, eitlier in the circum- 
stances that surrounded her, nor in her own inchna- 
tions. She was the wife of the most famous man 
of his times ; she was devotedly loved ; there had 
been no rupture between them. Her nature, while 
it was yielding, still was not passionate ; and she 
was no longer in the heyday of youth. . . . She had, 
doubtless, found amusement in the young secretary, 
who was a Parisian of the type known as the jeunesse 
doree, light and frivolous, careless and enter- 
taining ; and she did have reasons that seemed 
sufficient to her for attaching him to her society. 
It is not denied that Josephine was vain, that 
flattery was acceptable to her, that she gratefully 
inhaled the incense of adulation. In sooth, it had 
become necessary to her existence, after having been 
the recipient of such attentions as few women of 
her time had experienced. 

But, it cannot be proven that she was criminally 
culpable. Yet, this was the charge made against 
her, in Egypt, and which Bonaparte first heard, 
from Junot, during the ill-fated Syrian expedition. 
Bourrienne, who was most intimate with Napoleon 
during the Egyptian campaign, has left us a vivid 
narrative of this affair, which took place in February, 
1Y99. "Whilst near the wells of Messoudiah, on 
our way to El-Arish, I one day saw Bonaparte 
walking along with Junot, as he was often in the 
habit of doing, . . . The GreneraPs countenance, 
which was always pale, had, without my being able 
to divine the cause, become paler than usual. 



JOSEPHINE. 261 

There was something convulsive in his features — a 
wildness in his look, and he several times struck his 
head with his hand. After conversing with Junot 
about a quarter of an hour, he quitted him and came 
towards me. ... I advanced towards him, and as 
soon as we met he exclaimed, in an abrupt and 
angry tone, 'So, I find I cannot depend upon you. — 
These women — Josephine ! If you had loved me 
you would before this have told me all I have heard 
from Junot. He is a real friend. — Josephine ! — And 
I six hundred leagues from her. — You ought to have 
told me. — That she should have thus deceived me ! — 
Woe to them ! I will exterminate the whole race 
of fops and puppies. As to her : divorce ; yes, 
divorce ! A public and open divorce ; I must write. 
— I know all. — It is your fault. — You ought to 
have told me ! ' These energetic and broken ex- 
clamations, his disturbed countenance and altered 
voice, informed me but too well of the subject of 
his conversation with Junot. I saw that Junot 
had been drawn into a culpable indiscretion, and 
that if Josephine had committed any faults he had 
cruelly exaggerated them. . . . My situation was 
one of extreme delicacy, but, as some degree of 
calmness succeeded to this first burst, I replied that 
I knew nothing of the reports. ... I begged him 
to consider with what facility tales were fabricated 
and circulated,' and that gossip such as that which 
had been repeated to him was only the amusement 
of idle persons, and deserves the contempt of strong 
minds. I spoke of his glory. . . . 



262 JOSEPHINE. 

' ' ' My glory, ' cried he. ' I know not what I wonld 
not give, if that which Jiinot has told nie should be 
untrue ; so much do I love Josephine. If she be 
really guilty a divorce must separate us forever. I 
will not submit to bo the laughing-stock of all the 
imbeciles of Paris. I will write to Joseph ; he will 
get the divorce declared.' "* 

He wrote to his brother Joseph, a letter full of 
dolor and complaints, beginning " Xai heauconp de 
chagrins domestiques,^^ and alluding, in veiled terms, 
to the passing of his love for glory, his disappoint- 
ments, and eii.v/ni. 

It has been declared, by writers inimical to Jose- 
phine, that the '' idea of divorce germinated in the 
hour when his eyes were unsc^aled and the illusion 
under which ho had lived was dispelled," namely, 
in Egypt, at the receipt of this report of liis wife's 
allcg(Ml infidelity. It has also been claimed that 
Napoleon himself was ti-ue to his wife until this 
report'Pwas received ; that this news caused liim to 
turn,.Vo another for tlia,t consolation which was 
defied him in the bosom of his family. But this 
a\ko is untrue, for his own acts of infidelity antedate 
the receipt of this information. It is no secret that 
h€) had already carried on an open amour with the 
pretty wife of an officer of his command, and of 
whom lie seemed deeply enamored. He did not 
need as an excuse the indiscretions of his wife, as 
reported to him by a pretended friend, and which 

* For .'iiiothor version of this affair, seo the " Memoirs of tlie 
Duchoss d'Abrantes," the wife of Junot. 



JOSEPHINE. 263 

Bonaparte was liimsolf slow to believe. This amour 
was begun in September of the year previous, as 
Bourrienne relates, and other writers have con- 
firmed. "About the middle of September of this 
year (1708), Bonaparte ordered to be brought to the 
house of Elfy Bey half-a-dozen Asiatic women, 
whose beauty he liad lieard highly extolled ; but 
their ungraceful obesity displeased him, and they 
were immediately dismissed. A f(3w days after he 
fell violently in love with Madame Foures, the wife 
of a lieutenant of infantry. She was pretty, and 
her charms were enhanced by the rarity of seeing a 
woman in Egypt who was calculated to please the 
eye of a European. Bonaparte engaged a house for 
her adjoining the palace. He frc(pi(Uitly ordered 
dinner to be prepared there, and I used to go there 
with him at scwen o'clock, and leave him at nine. . . . 
This connection soon became) the general subject of 
gossip at headquarters. Through a feeling of deli- 
cacy to M. Foures, the General-in-Chief gave him a 
mission to the Directory. He embarkcMl at Alexan- 
dria and the ship was captured by the English, who, 
being informed of the cause of his mission, were 
malicious enough to send him back to Egypt, instead 
of keeping him prisoner." * 

* Tlie Duchcsso d' AbranLes con (inns in every particular tlic story nar- 
rated by Bourrienne of the amour between Bonaparte and Mn\e. 
Foures ; she appears to think it was an honest love, and treats 
lightly the feelings of the injured husband, as though it were the 
best joke in the world. The woman, too, has her sympathy ; but 
this may be expected from one who writes so lightly of the ante-nup- 



264 - JOSEPHINE. 

Were not this lamentable episode so well authen- 
ticated, we should hesitate to accept this statement, 
implicating in a disgraceful amour one who so re- 
cently was absorbed in a pure and ardent passion. It 
were futile to inquire the cause of this defection ; it 
were worse than foolish to ascribe it to the actions 
of the one he so truly loved. 

Among the many letters ascribed to Josephine is 
one that bears every evidence of authenticity, in 
style and sentiment. It was written after the 
receipt of Napoleon's accusation, and goes far to set 
her right in the opinion of honest and disinterested 
individuals. . . . " Can it be possible, my friend ; 
is the letter indeed yours, which I have just received ? 
Scarcely can I give it credit, on comparison with 
those others now before me, and to which your love 
gave so many charms. But my eyes cannot doubt 
that those pages which rend my heart are too surely 
yours ; though my soul refuses to admit that yours 
could have dictated those lines, which, to the ardent 
joy experienced on hearing from you, have caused 
to succeed the mortal grief of reading the expres- 
sions of displeasure, the more afflicting to me that 
it must have proved a source of anguish to you. 

" I am wholly ignorant in what I have offended, to 
create an enemy so determined to ruin my repose by 
interrupting yours ; but surely, it must be a grave 

tial amours and "natural child" of her own husband; and the 
obtuseness or moral obliquity that sees only with amazement Jose- 
phine's natural indignation at Jim of s flirtation with her own maid, 
before her face. 



JOSEPHINE. 265 

reason which can thus induce some one unceasingly 
to renew against me calumnies of such a specious 
nature as to be admitted, even for a moment, by one 
who hitherto has deemed me worthy of his entire 
affection and confidence. These sentiments are 
necessary to my happiness ; and if they are so soon 
to be refused me, ah, why was I ever made sensible 
of the delight of possessing them ? Far better would 
it have been for me never to have known you. 
When I first became acquainted with you, over- 
whelmed in sadness by the sorrows that had over- 
taken me, I believed it impossible that I should ever 
again feel a sentiment approaching to love. The 
scenes of blood I had witnessed, and whose victim I 
became, pursued me everywhere. Such were the 
causes that prevented apprehension in often meeting 
you : little did I imagine that I could for a single 
instant fix your choice. In common with all the 
world I admired your genius and your talents ; more 
truly than others did I foresee your coming glory ; 
but, notwithstanding all this, I was unmoved, lov- 
ing you only for the services you had rendered to 
my country. You should have left me to cherish 
this admiration, and not sought to have rendered 
it impassioned, by employing those means of pleas- 
ing which you above all men possess, if so soon after 
having united your destiny to mine, you were to re- 
gret the felicity which you alone had taught me to 
enjoy. 

" Do you believe it possible for me ever to forget 
your cares and your love ? Think you I can ever 



266 JOSEPHINE. 

become indifferent to one who sweetens existence by 
all that is delightful in passion ? 

' ' Can I ever efface from my memory your kindness 
to Hortense, your counsel and example to Eugene ? 
If this appear to you impossible, how can you 
suspect me of being interested, for a single moment, 
in what is alien to you. Oh, my friend, in place of 
lending ear to imposters, who, from motives which I 
cannot explain, seek to ruin our happiness, why do 
you not rather reduce them to silence, by a recital 
of your benefits to a woman whose character has 
never incurred the suspicion of ingratitude ? On 
hearing what you have done for my children, my 
traducers would be silent, since they must know 
that as a mother I first became attached to you. . . . 
Since that event, your conduct, admired as it has 
been throughout the whole of Europe, has, in my 
heart, but awakened deeper adoration of the hus- 
band who made choice of me, poor as I was, and 
unhappy. Every step which you take but adds to 
the splendor of the name I bear — and is such a 
moment to be seized to persuade you that I no longer 
love you ? . . . Yes, my friend, I love you with a 
sincerity well known, even to those who assert the 
contrary. . . . 

"It is true I see much company, for every one 
strives to be foremost in complimenting me on your 
successes, and I confess I have not the resolution to 
shut my doors against any one who comes to speak 
of you. My male visitors are very numerous ; they 
comprehend your daring achievements better than 



JOSEPHINE. 267 

women. . . . Women fail upon these subjects, and 
when they do not praise you they do not please 
me. . . . Still, it is among my own sex that I can 
find those whose heart and understanding I prefer 
to all, because their friendship for you is sincere. 
Of these I place first the names of Mmes. d'Aiguil- 
lon, Tallien, and my aunt. These are my intimates, 
and they will tell you, ungrateful as thou art, if I 
have thought of ' playing the coquette with all the 
world.' These are your own expressions, and they 
would be odious to me, were I not certain that you 
had disavowed, and at this moment are sorry for 
having written them. 

" I tremble when I think of the dangers that sur- 
round you, of more than half of which I should be 
ignorant, did not Eugene reiterate his requests to 
me to write you not to expose yourself to perils, 
and to take more care of a life not only dear to your 
family and your friends, but upon which hangs the 
destiny of your brethren in arms, and thousands of 
brave followers who could have courage to endure 
so many fatigues while under your eye alone. . . . 

" Here I receive honors which sometimes cause me 
embarrassment ; for, I see they displease our au- 
thorities, who, always distrustful and apprehensive 
of losing their power, are ever on the watch. Dis- 
regard these people, you will say ; but, my friend, 
they will endeavor to hurt you ; they will accuse 
you of seeking to- lessen their power ; and I should 
grieve to contribute in aught to a jealousy which 
your triumphs sufficiently justify. When you shall 



268 JOSEPHINE. 

return, covered with laurels, good heavens ! what 
will they not do, if already they are on the rack ? I 
cannot calculate where their resentment will stop ; 
but then you will be by my side, and I shall feel 
secure. . . . 

' ' I am ever thinking of you ; now transporting 
myself to the time when I shall see you every hour ; 
now plunged in sorrow at the thought of the space 
which must elapse before your return ; and when I 
thus conclude, I begin again. Are these the signs 
of indifference ? 

" I wish for none others on your part ; and if you 
feel thus for me, I shall not think myself altogether 
an object of pity, despite the small slanders which 
they would fain have me credit respecting a certain 
fair one, who, they tell me, interests you deeply. 

" Why should I doubt you ? You assure me I am 
beloved. I judge of you by my own heart, — and I 
believe you. 

" Grod knows when or where this letter may reach 
you ; may it restore to you a repose which you ought 
never to have foregone ; and more than ever give 
you an assurance that, while I live, you will be dear 
to me as on the day of our last separation. 

" Farewell, my only friend. Confide in me — love 
me — and receive a thousand tender caresses." 

"Josephine." 

If this letter reached Bonaparte, it is doubtful if 
he could after that have any credence in the accusa- 
tion. But when, like a thunderbolt, he launched 



JOSEPHINE. 269 

himself upon the coast of France ; when the news 
reached Josephine that he had landed at Frejus, 
she was alarmed, and justly. Not that she had 
been untrue to him ; but because she was aware of 
the enmity of his brothers, and wished to see him 
before they should poison his mind afresh. She 
hastened to meet him, missed him en route, and re- 
turned to their home to find his door barred against 
her. 



270 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

THE CONSULATE. 

It was in March, 1Y99, that Louis Bonaparte re- 
turned to France bringing from Egypt good news for 
Josephine, of Napoleon and her son Eugene. She 
had good reason to feel proud of her son, for he 
had borne himself in a manner creditable to himself 
and to his family, as the son of the Viscount de 
Beauharnais, and the step-son of the great Bona- 
parte. He had himself taken one of the five flags 
captured at Malta ; he was at Bonaparte's side at the 
entry into Alexandria ; took an active part in the 
battle of the Pyramids ; and risked his life in Cairo. 
In the Suez expedition the advance guard was en- 
trusted to him, and when, on the return, a lieuten- 
ant's epaulet was given him, he was but eighteen 
years of age. He was complimented by General 
Berthier, at the same time, for his bravery and 
prudence. On the ill-starred Syrian expedition he 
made several perilous reconnoissances, and was the 
only officer in the army who penetrated the Arab 
lines in the valley of Jerusalem and obtained a 
glimpse of the Holy City. During the siege of Acre 
he was stunned by the bursting of a bomb, and Bona- 



JOSEPHINE. 271 

parte, who was near him, gave utterance to a cry of 
grief and alarm, believing him killed. Of the eight 
aides-de-camp on Bonaparte's staff in Egypt, four 
were killed, and two were wounded, Eugene 
ever bore himself with a modest air, always gay 
and cheerful ; he felt for his glorious chief an 
affection that never changed, a devotion that 
never faltered ; and Bonaparte, on his side, was 
deeply attached! to him. 

At last, — "Eugene, you are going to see your 
mother." The boy's heart leaped with joy ; this 
was the news that for long months he had anxiously 
awaited. He had heard the evil reports from France ; 
it is said that Napoleon had talked with him of the 
alleged infidelity of his mother ; but, while still loyal 
to his General, to his step- father, he yet defended 
his mother, with a boy's belief in her innocence. 
He was sure that it was only necessary to bring 
them together, these two, whom he loved with all 
his soul, to effect a complete reconciliation. 

Says Bourrienne. . . . " The catastrophe of Abou- 
kir came like a thunderbolt upon the General-in- 
Chief. In spite of all his energy and fortitude he 
was deeply distressed by the disasters which now 
assailed him. To the painful feelings excited by the 
complaints and dejection of his companions-in-arms, 
was now added the irreparable misfortune of the 
burning of the fleet. He measured the fatal con- 
sequences of this event at a single glance. We were 
now cut off from all communication with France, 
and all hope of returning thither except by a degrad- 



272 JOSEPHINE. 

ing capitulation with an implacable and hated 
enemy. Bonaparte had lost all chance of preserving 
his conquest, and to him this was indeed a bitter 
reflection. And at what time did this disaster be- 
fall him ? At the very moment when he was about 
to apply for the aid of the mother country. 

" The imprudent communications of Junot at the 
fountains of Messoudiah will be remembered ; but 
after the first ebullition of jealous rage all traces 
of that feeling had apparently disappeared. Bona- 
parte, however, was still harassed by secret suspi- 
cion. . . . We reached the capital before Josephine 
returned. The recollection of the past, the ill- 
natured reports of his brothers, and the exaggera- 
tion of facts, had irritated Napoleon to the very 
highest pitch, and he received Josephine with 
studied coldness, and with an air of the most cruel 
indifference. He had no communication with her 
for three days. . . . Eeflection, seconded by his 
ardent affection for Josephine, brought about a 
complete reconciliation. After these three days of 
conjugal misunderstanding their happiness was 
never afterwards disturbed by a similar cause." 

Having landed at Frejus, Bonaparte's journey 
from that port to Paris was an uninterrupted series 
of ovations, and the 16th of October he entered the 
capital to the cries of /'Long live the Liberator of 
France ! " 

When, two days later, Josephine arrived from 
her fruitless journey, she found herself debarred his 
presence. All through the night she lay prostrate 



Josephine. 273 

before his chamber door ; but Bonaparte was obdu- 
rate ; only finally relenting when Eugene and Hor- 
tense, whom he so dearly loved, joined their plead- 
ings to hers. 

Whatever the cause her husband may have 
thought he had for his cruel course, or from what- 
ever reason he relented, his forgiveness was full 
and unquestioning. When his brothers came, next 
morning, to urge their reasons for a separation 
from his wife, they found the couple reunited and 
in full accord. From that time, to the end of their 
relations as man and wife, Josephine (even her de- 
tractors admit) led a life against which no one 
could urge any complaint of indiscretion, even. As 
the wife of the Consul she was irreproachable, 

Bonaparte forgave, and as well he forgot ; that 
was a noble trait of his character.* The double 
standard of morals : one law for woman and 



"* Madame Bonaparte was a prey to great and well-founded uneasi- 
ness. Whether she was guilty or only imprudent, she was strongly 
accused hy the Bonaparte family, who were desirous that Bonaparte 
should obtain a divorce. , . . Madame Bonaparte committed a great 
fault in neglecting at this juncture to conciliate her mother-in-law, 
who might have protected her against those who sought her ruin, 
and effected it nine years later. . . . Bonaparte, on his arrival in 
Paris found his house deserted ; but his mother, sisters and sisters- 
in-law, in fact every member of his family except Louis, who had 
attended Madame Bonaparte to Lyons, came to him immediately. 
The impression made upon him by the solitude of his home and 
its desertion by its mistress was profound and terrible. . . , From 
not finding her with his family, he inferred that she felt herself un- 
worthy of their presence, and feared to meet the man she had 
wronged." — Duchesse d'Abkantes. 
i8 



274 JOSEPHIKB. 

another for man, prevailed in France at that time 
as it does to-day. Although Bonaparte was priv- 
ileged to reproach, to accuse, and finally to mag- 
nanimously forgive, the wife must not only close her 
eyes to his own infidelities, but must again submit 
to be a victim of them. Egypt was of the past ; 
but other Cleopatras were to be forthcoming. It 
was not long, in sooth, before Napoleon was indulg- 
ing in a temporary passion for an Italian singer, of 
whom he soon tired, and who, some years later, 
"deployed her charms for the Duke of Wellington." 

Through Josephine, Bonaparte had hoped to draw 
about him the old nobility of France, and as well to 
cause disaffection in the ranks of the Republicans. 
To a great extent, she was of service in this re- 
spect ; though, as he later saw and admitted, he 
greatly overestimated her prospective infiuence and 
her former standing with the nohlesse. ' ' Josephine 
was well qualified to play this role ; she had the 
necessary ease, eloquence, and grace of manner ; was 
exceptionally tactful in bestowing a gift or favor, 
and had a charming fashion of receiving people, ap- 
pearing at ease in every assemblage." But her rev- 
olutionary affiliations were at first a drawback to 
her influence with the nobility ; all her life, indeed, 
and after her death her memory, was clouded by 
those '^ revolutionary affiliations." It was immedi- 
ately after their reconciliation, that Bonaparte re- 
ceived the most signal proof of her affectionate 
interest in his welfare and her influence in promot- 



JOSEPHINE. 275 

ing his vast schemes for aggrandizement. It is well 
known that his return to France was in the further- 
ance of his determination to overthrow the Direct- 
ory and establish himself in power as Dictator. It 
was not long before this was accomplished ; less 
than three weeks elapsed between the time of his 
landing at Frejus and his elevation to the supreme 
command. And it was in this overthrow of the 
Directory, that the assistance of his wife was in- 
valuable ; nay, more, without it, some of the ablest 
historians of France have declared, he could not 
have succeeded. Josephine proved to him, then, that 
the intercourse she had so persistently maintained 
with the members of the Directory (and which was 
the chiefest of the accusations against her), was 
entirely in his interest ; while he was absent in 
Egypt she had, with a prescience that must have 
come from intuition, kept in touch with his enemies, 
and had learned not only all their plans, but had 
conceived means of thwarting them. No sooner 
had the kiss of reconciliation sealed their pact of 
mutual confidence, than she unfolded to her lord 
the information she had gained, during those long 
days of separation, when she was in semi-seclusion 
at Malmaison. Bonaparte was astonished, de- 
lighted ; perchance remorseful, when he thought of 
the injustice he had done her ; on the part of Jose- 
phine was naught but joy and purest self-abnega- 
tion. ''Madame Bonaparte," says a contemporary, 
"was always of service to Bonaparte in his relations 
with the men of ^ whom he wanted to make use. 



276 JOSEPHINE. 

She fascinated every one who came near her, by 
her exquisite grace and charming courtesy. . . . 
She was to exercise direct influence on the victims 
and accompUces of the coup-cT etat — on Barras, 
Gohier, Sieyes, Fouche, Moreau, and Talleyrand." 

And says General Segur : ' ' Nothing was con- 
cealed from her. In every conference at which she 
was present, her discretion, gentleness, grace, and 
the ready ingenuity of her delicate and cool intelli- 
gence, were of the greatest service. She justified 
Bonaparte'' s renewed confidence in her" As con- 
firmatory of this assertion of her assistance in the 
weaving of the web around the doomed Directors, 
her letter to the incorruptible Gohier will be given. 
It was but a part of Bonaparte's scheme, to draw 
Gohier away from his allegiance. . . . 

" 17th Brumaire, Year VIII. 

"My DEAR Gohier. 

"Will not you and your wife breakfast with us 
to-morrow, at eight ? Do not fail us ; there are a 
good many interesting things I should like to talk 
to you about. 

" Good-bye, my dear Gohier." 

'' Believe me, always, 

' ' Sincerely yours, 
" La-Pagerie Bonaparte." 

Madame Gohier went, saw the trap, returned to 
warn her husband — but was too late. That was 
on the eventful morning of the 18th Brumaire, the 



JOSEPHINE. 27T 

events of which changed the destinies of France, 
gave into the hands of Napoleon the reins of govern- 
ment, bestowed upon him the power that eventually 
made him master of all France. The particulars of 
the fateful overturn are part of the history of 
France. The event was a pivotal point in the fort- 
unes of Bonaparte, in the destinies of France, of 
Europe, of the world. 

Bonaparte had indignantly demanded of the rec- 
reant rulers of the Republic : ' ' What have you done 
with that France which I left so splendid ? I left 
you peace, and find you at war ; I left you victory, 
and I find defeats ; I left you the spoils of Italy, 
and I find everywhere oppression and misery. What 
have you done with the hundred thousand French- 
men, whom you knew, and all of them my com- 
panions in glory ? " 

" The parts of the great drama which was to be 
enacted were well distributed," says his secretary, 
Bourrienne. " During the three days preceding the 
18th, everybody was at his post. Lucien, with equal 
activity and intelligence, forwarded the conspiracy 
in the two councils. Sieyes had the management 
of the Directory. . . . There was no time to lose ; 
and Fouche said to me, on the fourteenth, ' Tell your 
General to be speedy ; if he delays he is lost.' " 

He did not delay ; the morning of the 18th found 
him in peril, in the midst of enemies ; the close of 
day saw him combating them with prospect of suc- 
cess ; the night witnessed his triumph. 

'^ At three in the morning I accompanied Bona- 



278 JOSEPHINE. 

parte in his carriage to Paris. He was extremely 
fatigued, after so many trials. A new future was 
opened before him ; this thought completely ab- 
sorbed him, and he did not utter a single word during 
the journey. But when he arrived at his house in 
the Rue de la Victoire, he had no sooner entered his 
chamber and wished good-morning to Josephine, who 
was in bed, and in a state of the greatest anxiety, 
than he said, before her : ' Bourrienne, I said many 
ridiculous things?' 'Not so very bad, General.' 
' I like better to speak to soldiers than to lawyers. 
Those fellows disconcerted me. I have not been 
used to public assemblies ; but that will come in 
time.' 

' ' Back in the little house in the Eue de la Vic- 
toire — where he was married, whence he had started 
for Italy and Egypt, whither he had always re- 
turned victorious — he kissed Josephine, and told 
her all the incidents of the day. Then he rested for 
a few hours, and woke up in the morning, the master 
of Paris and of France." 

The coup-d'etat was accomplished on the 9th 
and lOtli of October, 1Y99 : a provisionary consulate 
was formed, consisting of Bonaparte, Sieyes, and 
Roger Duces, who took the place of the old Direc- 
tory. The General and his wife soon established 
themselves in the Luxembourg, where first Jose- 
phine experienced that homage of the people which 
ended only with her death. "It was at the Luxem- 
bourg, in the salons of which the adorable Josephine 
so well performed the honors, that the word Madame 



JOSEPHnTE. 279 

came again into use. This first return to the old 
French politeness was startling to some susceptible 
republicans ; but things were carried farther at the 
Tuileries by the introduction of Voire Altesse, on 
occasions of state and ceremony, and Mo7iseigneur 
in the family circle." 

A change was to occur, and the pliant Josephine 
was selected by her husband to assist him in bringing 
it about. Most ably she assisted him, and without 
her he would not have been capable of effecting it. 
Stern republicanism was to bow before the innovat- 
ing customs of the ancient court, and Paris was to 
experience a recrudescence of royalty ; not at first 
in name, but in essence. Bonaparte, if we may 
accept the statements of his secretary, entertained 
a profound dislike of the sanguinary men of the 
Eevolution, and especially of the regicides ; while 
Josephine's inclinations were ever towards royalty. 
The new " Constitution of the year VIII." was soon 
promulgated ; in December Bonaparte was declared 
First Consul with Cambaceres second and Lebrun 
third. The end of this eventful century, the last 
decade of which had been steeped in blood, had com- 
prised the most horrible chapter in French history, 
found a strong hand at the helm of power and prom- 
ised a return of long-lost prosperity. Napoleon's 
speech to the Council of the Ancients, on the 9th 
of November, '99, presaged a recurrence of happier 
days to this distracted country : . . "Let us not seek 
in the past examples that may retard our prog- 
ress. Nothing in history resembles the close of the 



280 JOSEPHINE. 

eighteenth century ; nothing in the close of the 
eighteenth century resembles the present moment ! 
We demand a Eepublic, founded upon true liberty. 
We will have it, — I swear it ! " 

The Tuileries was assigned to the First Consul as 
a place of residence, and on the 18th of February, 
1800, the transfer was effected in great state, from 
the Luxembourg to that palace which had been the 
abode of Louis XVI. and his queen. Upon its 
walls the word " Republic" was written, that the 
people might not take alarm at the prospect of their 
Consul dwelling in a royal residence, yet, at the very 
first reception held there was visible the difference 
between republican simplicity and monarchical 
etiquette. 

After the grand procession to the Tuileries, Bona- 
parte mounted his horse and reviewed the troops. 
Josephine and her friends, who already constituted 
a little court about her, viewing the spectacle from 
the windows of the palace. That evening, at the 
banquet and the grand reception, the most beautiful 
women, the most famous men, assembled to do 
homage to the conqueror of France and his consort. 
It was a veritable court presentation, and a good 
beginning of the road to royalty. Josephine, as 
usual, charmed all who saw her by her grace and 
affability, from the moment she appeared, leaning 
on the arm of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, to the 
moment of her departure, after an unexampled 
triumph over the prejudices and passions of that 
mixed assemblage, where republicanism for the first 



JOSEPHINE. 281 

time came into close contact with the ancient no- 
bihty. 

"Mme. Bonaparte," says the Duchessed'Abrantes, 
who was present, ' ' received us in the most gracious 
manner ; it was in such cases that she appeared to 
the utmost advantage. . . . She had already gone 
through all that a royal novitiate demanded, and it 
can scarcely be imagined with what ease she stepped 
into the station of queen." 

Bonaparte established himself in the apartments 
formerly occupied by the royal family ; Josephine 
and her own family on the floor below, where she 
held a separate court of her own. Here she was ap- 
proached by those who still had hopes of the return 
of the Bourbons to the throne of France. The cir- 
cumstance of the marriage of the Dictator of France 
with one of the ancient aristocracy, and Josephine's 
notorious attachment for the ancienne regime, gave 
the Royalists hope ; they swarmed upon her, and 
through her sought to approach the First Consul. 

A certain titled lady was sent by the Bourbons to 
asscertain the sentiments of Josephine regarding the 
re-establishment of the royal family in power. In 
drawing a flattering picture of the prospective hon- 
ors awaiting Napoleon, should he condescend to 
merge his own glory in that of the legitimate sover- 
eigns of France, the lady said to Josephine : " We 
will raise upon the Carrousal a magnificent column, 
upon which will be a statue of Bonaparte crowning 
the Bourbons." Josephine repeated this speech to 
Napoleon, who dryly remarked : " And did you not 



282 JOSEPHINE. 

tell them that this magnificent column would have as 
its pedestal the corpse of the First Consul ? " The 
pretty Duchess was arrested, and the next night 
sent over the frontier. Although Bonaparte was 
willing that Josephine should entertain her friends 
of the aristocracy, and that it should be understood 
that she was accessible to them at all times, yet he 
did not choose she should be made a cat's-paw for 
royalty. She was the connecting link between the 
old regime and the new ; she was most useful in the 
scheme he had formed for the fusion of the aristoc- 
racy with republicanism ; but could not be used to 
swerve him from his allegiance to — himself. He had 
not built this great structure for the occupancy of 
royalism ; although he was careful to let it so ap- 
pear to their friends. It was not till after Marengo 
that the royalists were undeceived ; that they saw 
clearly Bonaparte would turn to his own account 
this strong centralization of his power ; and then 
they filled France with assassins and spies. 

Their last hope perished at Marengo. The world 
was startled by this achievement : when the Great 
Saint Bernard was scaled, the mighty Alps crossed 
in safety, and the armies of Napoleon hurled upon 
the Austrians assembled on the plains of Italy. 

"The incredible difficulties it presented did not 
daunt the courage of Bonaparte's troops. His gen- 
erals, accustomed as they had been to brave fatigue 
and danger, regarded without concern the gigantic 
enterprise of the modern Hannibal. . . . What 
little time and how few events sometimes suffice 



JOSEPHINE. 283 

to change the destiny of nations ! We left Milan 
on the 13th of June, Marengo was on the 14th, and 
on the 15th Italy was ours. A suspension of hostil- 
ities between the French and Austrian armies was 
the immediate result of a single battle ; and by 
virtue of a convention, concluded between Berthier 
and Melas, we resumed possession of all the fortified 
places of any importance, with the exception of 
Mantua. 

"After our return from the battle the popular joy 
was general and heartfelt, not only among the 
higher and middle ranks of society, but in all classes ; 
and the affection evinced from all quarters to the 
First Consul was unfeigned. In what a tone of sin- 
cerity did he say to me one day, when returning 
from a parade : ' Bourrienne, do you hear the accla- 
mations still resounding ? That noise is as sweet to 
me as the sound of Josephine'' s voice. How happy 
and proud I am to be loved by such a people !' " 

Moreau's victory of Hohenlinden, in November, 
completed the humiliation of Austria, who was 
forced to sue for peace and to break her alliance 
with England. 

The first year of the new century saw Bonaparte 
in possession of nearly all the territory France had 
lost during his absence in Egypt, and his arms every- 
where triumphant. He was firmly established in the 
hearts of the French, and if anything were needed 
to cement their affection it came in the attempt of 
the royalist conspirators to destroy him, on the 
twenty-fourth of December, 1800. 



284 JOSEPHINE. 

On the evening of this day the first performance 
of Haydn's Oratorio, the " Creation," took place at 
the opera. The First Consul had announced his in- 
tention of being present, and at the appointed hour 
he set out in a carriage, with some friends, mem- 
bers of his staff ; while Josephine, who was to fol- 
low immediately after, was detained by some trivial 
circumstance. This detention saved their lives ; as 
it was, they had a narrow escape, the " infernal 
machine," as it was called, being exploded between 
the carriage of the First Consul and her own. The 
engine of death was in the shape of a watering-cart, 
loaded with explosives, and of such a deadly charac- 
ter that the street in which it stood was wrecked, 
houses destroyed, and many persons killed. Hor- 
tense, who was in the carriage with Josephine, was 
cut by flying glass, and entered the theater with 
blood flowing from her cheek. The escape was most 
miraculous ; had the two carriages been together, 
the whole party would have been blown to atoms. 
Arrived at the theater, Bonaparte entered his box 
with composure, only the deadly pallor of his coun- 
tenance showing that anything untoward had oc- 
curred. His only anxiety was for his wife, and as 
his aide-de-camp entered, some minutes later, hav- 
ing gone to inquire as to her safety, the word 
' ' Josephine ? " trembled on his lips. Her appearance 
reassured him, and he then gave his attention to 
the play. The noise of the explosion startled the 
immense audience in attendance, and soon the truth 
was disseminated ; every eye was directed to the box 



JOSEPHINE. 285 

where sat the First Consul and his wife, and from 
two thousand throats came cries of joy and affec- 
tion ; spontaneous testimonial that he was the pop- 
ular idol, that his enemies should feel the weight 
of their vengeance. 

Bonaparte had coolly remarked to his aide-de- 
camp, when assured of the safety of his family : 
"Those rascals tried to blow me up; bring me a 
book of the Oratorio." But he did not allow any 
time to elapse before setting the police upon the 
trail of the conspirators, and, though indifferent 
to death, he was rendered furious at the continued 
and relentless persecution of his enemies. He re- 
solved to make an example of them ; the lion in him 
was aroused ; he pursued and hunted them out with 
a tenacity of purpose that allowed of no escape. 
One by one, they were brought to answer for their 
crimes, and most of them perished upon the scaf- 
fold. 

During the succeeding four or five years. Napo- 
leon hardly left the soil of France, but devoted all 
his energies to the repairing of the terrible ravages 
made by so many years of war and civil strife. In 
1801, by the treaty of Luneville with Germany, the 
left bank of the Rhine was secured to France, also 
the Austrian Netherlands, and Venice was parti- 
tioned. During that year treaties were concluded 
with Spain, with Naples, with the Pope, with Ba- 
varia, Portugal, Russia, Turkey, and Algiers. Fi- 
nally, by the treaty of Amiens, peace was declared 
between France and England, and the First Con- 



286 JOSEPHINE. 

sul well earned the title of the ''Pacificator," Two 
years later, in May, 1803, war again broke out be- 
tween England and France ; the Senate immedi- 
ately voted to place 120,000 conscripts at the First 
Consul's orders, and preparations for war were made 
on a vast scale. Meanwhile, in the year 1801, had 
occurred the disastrous expedition to Santo Domingo, 
by which General Leclerc, Bonaparte's brother-in- 
law, and 20, 000 men, the flower of the French army, 
were lost. 

In 1802, Bonaparte was proclaimed Consul for 
life, and he at last stood alone upon the pinnacle 
of his glory. 

Another event bearing hard upon the destinies of 
France, and drawing upon her the observation of the 
world, was the Concordat with Kome, by which the 
Roman Catholic religion was restored in France. 
It is not claimed that the Consul was actuated by 
religious motives so much as by political. His mo- 
tives, and the event, are clearly stated by Bour- 
rienne.* 



* " Relating to the proposition of Bonaparte to make France a Pro- 
testant country, and cliange the rehgion of 30,000,000 people by an 
Imperial decree, — Comte de ISTarbonne : — 

" I will tell you what I will do, Narbonne, — I tell you how I will 
vent my spite on this old fool of a Pope, and the dotards who may 
succeed him : I will make a schism as great as that of Luther — I will 
make France a Protestant country. ..." 

"Sire, I see difficulties in the way of this project. In the South, 
in Vendee, in nearly all the West, the French are bigoted Catholics, 
and even what little religion remains among us, in our cities and 
great towns, is of the Roman church." 



JOSEPHINE. 287 

On the subject of religion Bonaparte's ideas 
were very vague. . . . The perpetuity of a name in 
the memory of man was to him the immortality of 
the soul. He was perfectly tolerant towards every 
variety of religious faith. 

The First Consul, taking a superior view of the 
state of France, considered that the re-establishment 
of religious worship would prove a powerful support 
to his government, and he had been occupied, ever 
since the commencement of 1801, in preparing a 
concordat with the Pope. It was signed in July of 
the same year. ... A solemn Te Deum was chanted 
at the cathedral of Notre Dame, on Sunday, the 
11th of April. The crowd was immense, and the 
greater part of those present stood during the cere- 
mony, which was splendid in the extreme ; but who 
would presume to say that the general feeling was 
in harmony with all this pomp ? . . . 

The Consular Court was, in general, extremely 
irreligious ; nor could it be expected to be otherwise, 
being composed chiefly of those who had assisted in 
the annihilation of all religious worship in France, 
and of men who, having passed their lives in camps, 
had oftener entered a church in Italy to carry off a 
painting, than to hear the mass ! . . . On the road 
from the Tuileries to Notre Dame, Lannes and 
Augereau wanted to alight from the carriage, as 

" Nevermind, Narbonne, never mind — I shall at least carry a large 
portion of the French people with me — I will make a division." 

" Sire, I am afraid that there is not enough religion in all France 
to stand division." 



288 JOSEPHINE. 

soon as they saw that they were being driven to 
mass, and it required an order from the First Consul 
to prevent their doing so. They went, therefore, to 
Notre Dame, and the next day Bonaparte asked 
Augereau what he thought of the ceremony. "Oh, 
it was all very fine," replied the General; "there 
was nothing wanting, except the million of men 
who have perished in the pulling down of what you 
are setting up ! " Josephine, although sharing with 
Bonaparte his views on religious questions, that is, 
having no deep convictions on the subject, yet 
graced by her presence the rood-loft of Notre Dame 
during the impressive ceremonial. 

In 1803 the civil code was proclaimed, that monu- 
ment to the genius and energy of Napoleon, which 
later was perfected, and proclaimed as the " Code 
Napoleon." Thus these years saw his great mind 
working in the interests of peace, of religion, of the 
establishment of the law. This was the most prom- 
ising period of his career, and his happy consort 
shared with him the affectionate regard of a con- 
tented and prosperous people. If ambition had not 
still pursued him, if the desire for universal con- 
quest had not taken possession of his mind, if the 
desire to found a throne and perpetuate his successes 
in his own name, by a direct heir of his own blood, 
had not filled his heart, then how different would 
be the record of his subsequent achievements ! On 
the day in which Bonaparte was named Consul for 
life, says his secretary, Bourrienne : " . . . the 
principal apartments of the Tuileries presented the 



J0SEPHINI5. 289 

appearance of a fete. This formed a striking con- 
trast with the melancholy of Josephine, who felt 
that every step of the First Consul towards the 
throne removed him farther from her. . . . She 
had to receive a party, that evening, and, though 
greatly depressed in spirits, she did the honors with 
her usual grace." These two, working together, 
the one for the re-establishment of law and religion, 
the other for the amelioration of society, have earned 
the gratitude of regenerated France ; though it is 
doubtful if this debt has ever been fully recognized. 
At the outset, there was at the Tuileries neither 
established etiquette nor ceremonial ; an old coun- 
sellor of state had the management of the palace 
assisted by the First Consul's aide-de-camp, and 
above all by the gallant Duroc. "At that time," 
says the Duchess d'Abrantes, "vice and disorder 
were no longer protected by the heads of the State, 
but levity and immodesty in all that related to the 
reputation and fate of the female sex, were but too 
much in vogue at the moment of the Revolution. 
... It is certain that in 1800, when the court of the 
Tuileries was formed, society wore an appearance 
of morality and domestic virtue which it had never 
before displayed in France. The noblesse, or what 
was at last by general consent denominated the 
Faubourg St. Germain, was constrained to follow 
the general current." . . . The emigres, another 
writer says ; "... in spite of their haughtiness, 
were obliged to draw nearer and nearer to Bona- 
parte ; but in 1802 they contented themselves with 
19 



290 JOSEPHINE. 

paying their court to Josephine. . . . "Women like 
to protect, and to confer rather than receive a kind- 
ness. It was with keen pleasure that Josephine 
found herself sought after by people of the old 
regime, who still refused to bow before her hus- 
band, and who used to come to call on her, in her 
apartment on the ground-floor of the Tuileries, at 
the same time boasting that they had never set foot 
on the grand staircase of the palace. ... As for 
Josephine, she was never more at her ease than in 
the society of the emigres, for with them she felt a 
harmony of ideas and hopes. . . . Thiers has said 
that she ought rather to have crushed them beneath 
the weight of her pride ; but how could she have 
done this, when she had shared their feelings, their 
grief, their sufferings, and but for the ninth Ther- 
midor would have died on the guillotine ? " 

A pretty picture exists of Josephine as she ap- 
peared at this time, in 1803, at the wedding of 
Pauline, Bonaparte's sister, and the Prince Borghese. 
..." With her short sleeves, bare arms, and her 
hair enclosed in a gilt net, the meshes of which met 
on her forehead, she looked like a Greek statue. 
The First Consul led her to a mirror, that he might 
see her on all sides at once, and, kissing her shoulder, 
said : ^Ah, Josephine, I shall be jealous ; you have 
some plan in your head. Why are you so beautiful 
to-day ? ' 'I know that you like to see me in white, 
and so I put on a white dress ; that is all.' ' Well, 
if you did it to please me, you have succeeded,' and 
he kissed her again." 



JOSEPHINE. 291 

The same year, 1803, witnessed the triumphal 
journey of Napoleon and his consort across France, 
and to Boulogne, where the immense flotilla and 
armament were gathered for the threatened descent 
upon the English coast. They were everywhere 
received with acclamation, at all points welcomed 
with enthusiasm, and returned to Paris convinced 
of the entire love and confidence of their subjects. 
For, subjects they were, even though the imperial 
crown had not been assumed. The shadows length- 
ening on the field of war portended an imperial am- 
bition, the more rigorous etiquette of their court at 
the Tuileries, augured a return to royalty. 

In order to seek benefit from the waters, 
Josephine went to Plombieres, while Napoleon rested 
awhile at Malmaison, from which retreat he wrote 
his wife the following charming letters : . . . 

" Malmaison, 11th June, 1803. 

"We are somewhat dull here, although the ami- 
able daughter (Mme. Louis Bonaparte), does the 
honors of the house marvellously well. I love you 
as on the first day, because you are good and loving 
above all else. A thousand sweet messages and a 
kiss of love. Always thine,— — " 

'' June 23d. . . I received your letter, sweet little 
Josephine. I see with pain that you have suffered 
on the journey ; but a few days of rest will make 
you well again. I beg you to believe that nothing 
is truer than the love I have for my little Jose- 
phine. " 



292 JOSEPHINE. 

June 2Yth. . . , "^Your letter, dear little wife, 
tells me that you are not well. Corvisart says that 
is a good sign, and that the baths will have the de- 
sired effect. Still, to know that you are suffering 
gives me a pain at my heart. Thine for life. " 

July 1st. . . . "You do not write me of your 
health, nor of the effect of the baths. I see that you 
are expecting to return in a week. That will be a 
great pleasure to your husband, who is tired of 
being alone. Believe me, I beg, that I love you, 
and am very impatient to see you again. Every- 
thing here is sad without you. 

"Napoleon." 

The baths of Plombieres did not have ' ' the de- 
sired effect," and both husband and wife abandoned 
hope that an heir could be born of their union. 

In the meantime their enemies were not inactive. 
The Bourbon conspirators were swarming in the 
very capital ; the arrest of Pichegru, Moreau, the 
Chouan Cadoudal, was succeeded by that high- 
handed capture of the Duke d'Enghien on neutral 
territor}^. His arrest, the incarceration in the 
citadel of Strasbourg, and finally his summary ex- 
ecution in the moat of Vincennes, form one of the 
darkest episodes of Bonaparte's career. The murder 
of the last of the Condes was a blot upon his shield 
all the subsequent glory of repeated victories could 
not erase. Yet, Napoleon was driven to desperation 
by the repeated attempts of the Bourbons upon his 
life ; he would give them a terrible warning, that 



JOSEPHINE. 293 

no life was too sacred to prevent him from achieving 
his destiny, even thougli through pools of royal blood. 
"It is not difficult," writes one, of this dark period, 
"to picture the distress of Josephine, when she saw 
her husband and herself so beset with perils. But, 
with her experience of danger, she kept up a good 
heart. In the Eeign of Terror, and on the evening 
of the infernal machine, she had seen death near 
her without a tremor. With all her anxiety, she 
did not lose her head ; she continued to be amiable 
and kindly, api3easing and advising her husband. . . . 
Unfortunately for Napoleon, he refused to listen to 
Josephine ; in his exasperation he lost all self-con- 
trol ; he yearned to do something terrible, to strike 
some strong blow. He represented vengeance, his 
wife forgiveness. ... At the Tuileries, there was a 
struggle between anger and pity." 

In this connection, the testimony of a witness to 
Josephine's agitation is of value : . . . 

' ' ' Bourrienne, ' " exclaimed Josephine, as soon as 
she perceived me, ' what a dreadful event. . . . Did 
you but know the state of mind Bonaparte is in ! . , . 
He avoids, he dreads, the presence of every one. 
Who could have suggested such an act as this ? . , , , 



But no reproach can rest upon me, for I did every- 
thing to dissuade him from this dreadful project. 
He did not confide the secret to me, but I guessed it, 
and he acknowledged all. How harshly he repelled 
my entreaties ! I clung to him. I threw myself 
at his feet. ' Meddle with what concerns you,' he 
exclaimed angrily. ' This is not a woman's busi- 



294 JOSEPHINE. 

ness. Leave me ! ' And he repulsed me with a 
violence which he had never displayed since our 
first interview after your return from Egypt. 
Heavens ! what will become of us ? ' " 

This was in March, 1804, only three months before 
Napoleon was declared Emperor of France. There 
was little time for gloomy reflection ; events were 
hastening towards their consummation : towards 
the crowning of Napoleon and Josephine as supreme 
rulers of France. 

What were the emotions of Josephine, seeing the 
approaching event, knowing that she would soon be 
raised to share with her husband the highest honors 
that a grateful people could bestow ? Thibadeau 
has said in his Memoirs. . . . 

"In France and in Europe, everything conspired 
for the sacrifice of the rights of the people in favor 
of the First Consul. At court one woman still 
resisted the mighty current : she alone was not 
blinded by all the illusions of greatness. She was 
pursued by the wildest alarm and the gloomiest 
forebodings. Indeed, Madame Bonaparte perhaps 
foresaw her fall in her husband's elevation to the 
throne ; but a delicate instinct, which in woman 
often takes the place of perspicacity, prevented her 
seeing without horror a man reigning over the 
ruins of the republic, who owed to the republic his 
greatness and glory." 

The Duchess d'Abrantes, who, like Bourrienne, 
was intimately acquainted with Madame Bonaparte, 
and a witness of the scenes antecedent to the corona- 



JOSEPHINE. 295 

tion, writes, in her Memoirs: . . . " Josephine had 
no gloomy presentiments, either as regarded herself 
or Napoleon. She was in excellent spirits, and told 
me that the emperor had that morning made her 
try on the crown which next day he was to place on 
her head in the eyes of France. And she shed tears 
of joy when she mentioned this." 

It would seem, in fact, that Josephine was not 
possessed of that perspicacity or prescience, which 
enabled her to foretell the disastrous termination of 
the empire ; though she may have had some strong 
suspicion that the elevation of her husband would 
have the effect of increasing his ambitions and 
reflect unhappily upon herself. Bourrienne himself 
says. . . . 

''Josephine, whose susceptibility appears to me 
even now excusable, well knew my sentiments on 
the subject of Bonaparte's founding a dynasty. . . . 
I remember that one day, after the publication of the 
parallel of Csesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte, Jose- 
phine, having entered our cabinet without being 
announced, approached Bonaparte softly, seated her- 
self on his knee, passed her hand gently through his 
hair and over his face, and said to him, in a burst 
of tenderness : ' I entreat you, Bonaparte, do not 
make yourself a king. ... It is that wretch Lucien 
who urges you to it. Do not listen to him.' 

"Bonaparte replied without anger, and even smil- 
ing as he pronounced the words, ' You are mad, my 
poor Josephine. It is your old dowagers of the 
Faubourg St. Germain, who tell you all these 



296 JOSEPHHsTE. 

fables. . . . Come, now, you interrupt me ; leave me 
alone.' 

" I said to her, one day : ' No sovereign in Europe 
has so much power as he has. I am sorry for it, 
Madame, but I really believe that, in spite of your- 
self, you will be made Queen or Empress.' 

" Madame Bonaparte had allowed me to speak with- 
out interruption, but when I pronounced the words 
Queen and Empress she exclaimed : ' My God, Bour- 
rienne, such ambition is far from my thoughts. 
That I may always continue the wife of the First 
Consul is all I desire. Say to him all that you have 
said to me. Try and prevent him from making 
himself king. He has so much confidence in you, 
Bourrienne.'" 



JOSEPHINE. 297 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

" YOUR MAJESTY," 

The coronation took place on the second of Decem- 
ber, 1804, in the Church of Notre Dame, which had 
been newly painted and most magnificently decorated 
for this great occasion. . . . We have, in the pages 
of Bourrienne, a concise account of this ceremony, 
which was witnessed by a prodigious concourse of 
spectators. 

" The Pope set out from the Tuileries and pro- 
ceeded along the quay to the archiepiscopal palace, 
whence he repaired to the choir by a private 
entrance. 

"The Emperor, with the Empress, went by the 
Carrousal. . . . The procession, truly a magnificent 
sight, was opened by the already numerous body of 
courtiers : next came the marshals of the Empire, 
wearing their honors ; then the dignitaries and 
high officers of the Crown ; and lastly the Emperor, 
in a dress of state. At the moment of his entering 
the cathedral there was a simultaneous shout of 
' Vive VEmpereur. ' The procession passed along the 
middle of the nave and arrived at the choir, facing 
the high altar. This scene was not less imposing ; 



298 JOSEPHINE. 

the galleries round the choir were filled with the 
handsomest women whom the best company could 
produce, and most of whom rivaled in the luster 
of their beauty that of the jewels with which they 
were covered. 

''His Holiness went to meet the Emperor at a 
tribune which had been placed in the middle of the 
choir ; there was another on one side for the Em- 
press. After saying a short prayer there they 
returned, and seated themselves on the throne at 
the end of the church facing the choir, where they 
heard mass, which was said by the Pope. 

" They went to make the offering, and came back ; 
they then descended from the platform of the throne 
and walked in procession to receive the holy unction. 
The Emperor and Empress, on reaching the choir, 
replaced themselves at their tribunes, where the 
Pope performed the ceremony. 

"He presented the crown to the Emperor, who 
received it, put it himself upon his head, took it 
off, placed it on that of the Empress, removed it 
again, and laid it on the cushion where it was at 
first. A smaller one was immediately put upon 
the head of the Empress. All the arrangements 
had been made beforehand ; she was surrounded by 
her ladies ; everything was done in a moment, and 
nobody perceived the substitution which had taken 
place. 

" The procession moved back to the platform, and 
there the Emperor heard the Te Deum. The Pope 
himself went thither, at the conclusion of the service, 



JOSEPHINE. 299 

as if to say : Ite missa est. The Testament was 
presented to the Emperor, who took off his glove, 
and pronounced his oath, with his hand upon the 
sacred book. 

"He went back to the archbishop's palace by the 
same way he had come, and entered his carriage. 
The ceremony was very long ; the procession re- 
turned by a different route, and it was getting dusk 
when the Emperor arrived at the Tuileries." 

" The ceremony," says Mme. de Remusat, another 
of the spectators, 'Svas grand and impressive. A 
general movement of admiration was noticed at the 
moment when the Empress was crowned. She was 
so unaffected, so graceful, as she advanced towards 
the altar, she knelt with such simple elegance, 
that all eyes were delighted with the picture she 
presented. . . . 

" When, however, she had to walk from the altar 
to the throne, there was a slight altercation with 
her sisters-in-law, who, by order of their imperial 
brother, carried her mantle. Feeling themselves 
slighted, they bore their burden with such ill-grace 
that I observed at one moment the new-made 
Empress could not advance a step. The Emperor 
perceived this, and spoke a few short sharp words to 
his sisters, which speedily brought them to reason." 

Perhaps the happiest description of Josephine's 
participation in the coronation ceremonies is from 
the pen of another witness, the Duchess d' Abrantes, 
who says : 

' ' When the moment arrived for Josephine to take 



300 JOSEPHINE. 

an active part in the grand drama, she descended 
from the throne and advanced towards the altar, 
where the Emperor awaited her, followed by her 
retinue of court ladies, and having her train borne by 
the Princesses Caroline, Julie, Eliza, and Louis. 
One of the chief beauties of the Empress Josephine 
was not merely her fine figure, but the elegant turn 
of her neck, and the way in which she carried her 
head ; indeed, her deportment altogether was con- 
spicuous for dignity and grace. I have had the 
honor of being presented to many real princesses — 
to use the phrase of the Faubourg Saint Germain — 
but I never saw one who, to my eyes, presented so 
perfect a personification of elegance and majesty. 

^' In Napoleon's countenance I could read the con- 
viction of all I have just said. He looked with 
an air of complacency at the Empress, as she ad- 
vanced towards him ; and when she knelt down, 
when the tears which she could not repress fell upon 
her clasped hands, as they were raised to Heaven, or 
rather to Napoleon, — both then appeared to enjoy 
one of those fleeting moments of pure felicity which 
are unique in a lifetime, and serve to fill up a 
lustrum of years. The Emperor performed with 
peculiar grace every action required of him during 
the ceremony ; but his manner of crowning. Joseph- 
ine was most remarkable ; after receiving the small 
crown surmounted by the cross, he had first to place 
it on his own head, and then to transfer it to that of 
the Empress. When the moment arrived for placing 
the crown on the head of the woman whom popular 




Napoleon at Malmaison. 



JOSEPHINE. 301 

superstition regarded as his good genius, his manner 
was almost playful. He took great pains to arrange 
this little crown which was placed over Josephine's 
tiara of diamonds ; he then put it on, took it off, and 
finally put it on again, as if to promise her she should 
wear it gracefully and lightly. My position enabled 
me fortunately to see and observe every minute 
action and gesture of the principal actors in this 
magical scene." 

The coronation was but the final act in the drama, 
which had been some six months upon the boards ; 
for it was on the eighteenth of May, preceding, that 
the Second Consul, Cambaceres, President of the 
Senate, had come to Saint Cloud to announce to the 
First Consul and his wife their elevation to the 
throne, accompanied by all the senators, and escorted 
by a large body of troops. 

He ''made a set speech, and gave Bonaparte, for 
the first time, the title of 'Your Majesty.' Bona- 
parte took it calmly, just as though he had borne 
the title all his life." The Senate then proceeded to 
the apartment of Madame Bonaparte, who in her 
turn was proclaimed Empress, and addressed by 
Cambaceres in the following speech : 

"Madame, the Senate has still an agreeable duty 
to perform, that of offering to your Imperial Majesty 
the homage of its respect and the expression of the 
gratitude of the French people. Yes, Madame, 
France makes known the good you are never tired 
of doing. It says that, always accessible to the un- 
fortunate, you never exercise your influence over 



302 JOSEPHINE. 

the head of the State, save to console their misery, 
and that, to the pleasure of obliging them, your 
Majesty adds that amiable delicacy which makes 
gratitude sweeter and the benefit more precious. 
This happy disposition is a sure token that the name 
of the Empress Josephine will be the signal of con- 
solation and hope, and, as the virtues of Napoleon 
will always serve as an example to his successors to 
teach them the art of governing nations, so the un- 
dying memory of your kindness will teach their 
august companions that the art of drying tears is 
the surest way of ruling over men's hearts. 

" The Senate congratulates itself on being the first 
to greet your Imperial Majesty, and he who has the 
honor to be its spokesman presumes to hope that 
you will deign to count him among the number of 
your most faithful servants. " 

^' To this harangue," says Madame de Remusat, 
'' Josephine replied with that natural grace which 
always raised her to the level of any position, how- 
ever lofty, in which she might be placed." 

And now she had reached the loftiest position, 
was at the summit of earthly grandeur ; Josephine, 
the obscure Creole of Martinique, was now Her 
Majesty, Empress of all the French. She had been 
represented as viewing the preparations for the coro- 
nation with melancholy forebodings ; again, essay- 
ing a trial of the imperial crown with badinage and 
laughter. She herself has said : . . . "As wife of 
the First Consul I was happy, indeed, because I was 
enabled to render him important services ; but, 



JOSEPHINE. 303 

elevated to the rank of Empress, I found all the 
avenues to the throne so beset by men of every con- 
dition, and every faction, that I ceased to exert the 
same empire over Napoleon's mind. 

" But Napoleon began to neglect me. More than 
one Italian beauty momentarily arrested his gaze. 
Constancy was not the favorite virtue of the modern 
Charlemagne. . . . But he was terribly afraid of the 
influence of women, and ever on his guard against 
allowing them the slightest dominion over him." 

Josephine was always afraid, and not without 
reason, that Bonaparte would be carrying on an in- 
trigue with other women ; and hence arose a kind 
of restraint, which she manifested whenever a 
young and pretty woman was presented to her. 
Her readers, or lectrices were frequently the objects 
of Napoleon's transient adoration, and for this reason 
they were constantly being changed. One of them, 
the young and beautiful Mile. G. had the har- 
dihood to repel, or to affect to, this conqueror of 
so many countries and winner of so great a mul- 
titude of female hearts. Josephine, who had long 
suspected a liaison between these two, one day sur- 
prised her husband at the feet of the lovely lectrice. 
The young lady was equal to the occasion : 
" Come," said she to the Empress, as she made her 
appearance so unexpectedly upon this private stage, 
"come, and remind your husband, what he has 
apparently forgotten, that he is that Napoleon 
whose duty it is to furnish to his people examples of 
virtue and wisdom." The reader was sent away, 



304 JOSEPHINE. 

of course, and was soon after married to a gentle- 
man of some importance in the military service. 
Napoleon is said to have exclaimed, when he heard 
of her marriage, ' ' So much the better. I shall 
send her husband so far from France that she will 
be glad to come and humble herself before me, to 
prostrate herself at my feet, soliciting his return." 

It is doubtful if he uttered this despicable senti- 
ment ; but if he did, he never carried out the inten- 
tion, for he was not capable of meanness and petty 
revenge. We cannot, however, remain blind to his 
numerous and indiscreet amours, which often took 
place before the very eyes of the Empress. And 
what must have been the feelings of his royal con- 
sort, when Napoleon was thus contravening the 
canons of his own moral code ? 

We know, from evidence that has been accepted 
as irrefutable, that she maintained for Napoleon a 
lasting affection, and which he, in a way, requited. 
Yet, how numerous were the offenses which he put 
upon her. ..." Whenever he had a mistress," says 
Madame de Remusat, "he let her know it, and 
showed a savage sort of surprise that she did not 
approve of his indulging in a pleasure which, as he 
would demonstrate, so to speak, mathematically, 
was both allowable and necessary to him. ' I am 
not an ordinary man,' he would say ; ' and the laws 
of morals and of customs were never made for me.' 

" Such speeches as these, of course, aroused the 
anger of his wife, and she replied to them with tears 
and complaints, which her husband would resent 



JOSEPHINE. 805 

with the utmost violence. After a while his new 
fancy would vanish suddenly, and his tenderness 
for his wife revive. Then he was moved by her 
grief, and would lavish caresses upon her as un- 
measured as his wrath had been ; and, as she was 
very placable and gentle, she was easily appeased." 

Of his rude manners, the same writer gives an 
illustration ; it was immediately after the death of 
the Duke d'Enghien, and she, in common with the 
other ladies of the Court, had been weeping. '^ Sud- 
denly fixing a piercing eye upon me, Bonaparte 
said : ' Why have you no rouge ? You are too pale. ' 
I answered, that I had forgotten it. 

" ' What,' said he,' a woman forget to put on her 
rouge ! ' And then, with a loud laugh, he turned 
to his wife and added : ' That will never happen 
to you, Josephine. . . . Two things are very becoming 
to women : — rouge and tears." 

But all the imperial epiosodes were not of a disa- 
greeable character and only occasionally was the 
great Bonaparte rude to his wife. 

' ' ' You are a good woman, to plead for Lucien, ' he 
said to her tenderly one day, then he rose from his 
chair, took his wife in his arms, and laid her head 
softly on his shoulder ; and with his hand still rest- 
ing on the beautiful head, which formed a contrast 
to the sad, set countenance so near it, he told us 
that Lucien had resisted all his entreaties," etc. 

" Much has been said about the tyranny, violence 
of temper, and despotism of Napoleon," wrote the 
Duchess d'Abrantes. " I revere, — nay, even wor- 



306 JOSEPHINE. 

ship — his memory ; but I am not so absurd as to con- 
sider him a god. He was a man, and partook of 
the failings of human nature. Nevertheless, to 
speak from my own knowledge of his character, — 
and I had the opportunity of knowing him well — I 
must declare my honest conviction that he possessed 
a noble mind, a heart forgetful of injuries, and a 
disposition to recommend talent wherever he found 
it. Perhaps at no period did Napoleon's character 
appear in so exalted a light as on his elevation to 
the imperial authority. He had previously been 
the object of envious hatred, and of base persecu- 
tion ; but he forgot all when the nation invested 
him with supreme power. 

" Those who were much about the person of Na- 
poleon can never forget the splendor which was shed 
over his features when he smiled ; his eyes then be- 
came truly fine, their expression softened ; and if 
the sentiment which produced the smile had any- 
thing truly noble in it, its effect was infinitely 
heightened ; it was then that his countenance be- 
came something more than that of a man. 

After the coronation : 

'' Napoleon then addressing Josephine, said, ' I 
desire you will be dazzling in jewelry and richly 
dressed ; do you hear ? ' 

'•' 'Yes,' replied Madame Bonaparte, 'and then you 
will find fault, perhaps fall into a passion ; or you 
will erase my warrants of payment from the mar- 
gins of my bills.' And she pouted like a little girl, 



JOSEPHINE. 307 

but with the most perfect good humor. Madame 
Bonaparte's manners possessed, when she chose it, 
a seducing charm. Her graciousness might be too 
general ; but undeniably, she could be, when she 
chose, perfectly attractive and lovable. When the 
First Consul announced his wish regarding her 
toilet she looked at him so prettily, walked towards 
him with such graceful sweetness, her whole man- 
ner breathing so evident a desire to please, that he 
must have had a heart of stone who could resist 
her. Napoleon loved her ; he drew her close to him 
and embraced her : . . . ' Certainly, my dear love, 
I sometimes cancel your warrants of payment, be- 
cause you are occasionally so imposed upon that I 
cannot take it upon my conscience to sanction such 
abuses ; but it is not, therefore, inconsistent to 
recommend you to be magnificent on occasions of 
parade. One interest must be weighed against 
another, and I hold the balance equitably, though 
strictly.' . . . 

"Madame Bonaparte was an astonishing woman, 
and must have formerly been extremely pretty, for 
though now no longer in the first bloom of youth, 
her personal charms were still striking. Had she 
but possessed teeth — I do not say ugly or pretty, 
but only teeth — she would certainly have outvied 
nearly all the ladies of the Consular Court." 

Josephine, says one who was intimately ac- 
quainted with her mode of life, had what are called 
habitudes ; her mode of life was always the same. 
Her habit was to rise at eight in the morning, 



308 JOSEPHINE. 

glancing over the papers while her toilet was 
being performed, and perhaps receiving tradesmen 
and others not admitted to her salon. 

At noon, breakfast, after conversation in the 
salon with her guests and dames cle service. From 
breakfast till four o'clock a ride or excursion, and 
reception of friends. 

From four to five o'clock, rest, in neglige, during 
which hour, if at all, she received visits from Bona- 
parte. Then a second toilet, and dinner at six ; 
Bonaparte rarely staying longer than twenty min- 
utes at the table. 

In the evening the ministers, marshals, generals, 
etc., made their calls. If the Emperor came, which 
was never before nine, he remained not to exceed a 
quarter-hour, unless he wanted to form a party at 
whist, — at which he was very inattentive, being so 
much absorbed in other things. This party always 
consisted of ladies. 

After the game was over he would abruptly leave 
the salon ; but Josephine would remain until retir- 
ing-time, though sometimes so fatigued she could 
not sleep, and often lie awake, conversing with her 
femme-de-garde till three in the morning. 

"After the adoption of the rigid court etiquette," 
says Madame de Remusat, "the wife of Napoleon 
was almost in the same position of dependence as 
the ladies of her train. In proportion as Bona- 
parte's affairs increased in magnitude, she became 
a stranger to them. 

" European politics, the destiny of the world, mat- 



JOSBPHmE. 309 

tered little to her ; her thoughts did not reach to 
heights which could have no influence on her own 
fate. At this period she was tranquil as to her own 
lot and happy in that of her children, and she lived 
a life of peaceful indifference, behaving to all with 
equal graciousness, showing little or no special 
favor to any one, but a general good will." 

We cannot allude to the numerous fetes and fes- 
tivals that followed after the coronation. The city 
of Paris distinguished itself by presenting to the 
Empress a magnificent toilet set of gold, accom- 
panied by a speech from the president of the munic- 
ipality in which most complimentary allusions were 
made to the beneficent influence Josephine had 
always exerted upon the morals of all classes of 
society since the period of the Revolution. 

. But of all the demonstrations of which she was 
the object, perhaps Josephine was touched the most 
by that from the people of her natal country, 
Martinique. Upon the reception of the news, the 
islanders abandoned themselves to the most joyous 
demonstrations, giving up an entire week to fetes 
and thanksgivings. Madame de La-Pagerie was 
persuaded to emerge from her retreat at Sannois 
and become the honored guest of the Governor and 
the admiral of the fleet who had brought the glad 
tidings to Martinique. Preceded by a numerous 
cortege and leanin'g upon the arm of the admiral, 
Madame de La-Pagerie was conducted to the door 
of the church of Fort Royal, where she was received 
by the ecclesiastics and persuaded to take her seat 



310 JOSEPHIKE. 

upon a dais, like a throne, which had been erected 
in the choir. 

After she was thus seated in state, the authorities 
took the oath of allegiance to the Emperor, and a 
Te Deum concluded the ceremonies. 

The mother of the Empress was then conducted 
to the house of the Governor, where a banquet was 
spread with two hundred covers, at the coming on 
of night. The Governor presented the toast to the 
Empress: — ''To her Majesty, the Empress Jose- 
phine. It was reserved to grace and beauty to 
share the throne of France with genius and victory." 

The health of Madame de La-Pagerie was : — "To 
the mother of our Empress ; the model of virtues in 
the colony. France is indebted to her for those 
which adorn the throne in the person of her august 
daughter. " 

Returning to Trois Ilets, Madame de La-Pagerie 
resumed her life of patriarchal simplicity, and 
never after left her chosen retreat. But the Creoles 
bestowed upon her the title of the Empress-Mother, 
and persisted in surrounding her with every atten- 
tion. 

It was while at the summit of her grandeur that 
Josephine made a last but ineffectual attempt to 
draw her mother from her hermitage to join her 
in France. The addresses of the inhabitants of 
Martinique reached Josephine just as she was set- 
ting out with the Emperor for Milan, where the 
latter was to be crowned King of Italy. 

This first year of the Empire ought to be con- 



JOSEPHINE. 311 

sidered the happiest of Josephine's life. She had no 
desire to share with her husband the crown of Italy, 
and experienced no chagrin that he set it upon his 
head alone. Her cup of joy was full when her 
royal spouse bestowed upon her son Eugene, the 
title of a Prince of the Empire and Archchancellor 
of State. And later, another proof was given of 
the esteem and love Napoleon felt for his step-son 
in his appointment as Viceroy of Italy. Eendered 
supremely happy by the elevation of her son to this 
position, yet made temporarily unhappy at the pros- 
pect of separation from him, Josephine left Milan 
three days after the proclamation and entered upon 
a journey through the chief cities of Italy. She 
revisited the scenes of her former triumphs, when 
her husband was making his conquering marches 
and winning the name that made all Europe tremble, 
and was everywhere received with enthusiasm. 
Although contemplating a longer sojourn in this 
country, their stay was suddenly terminated by the 
news of another coalition against Napoleon, who at 
once departed for Paris. 

The Empress returned to the Tuileries where she 
remained while Bonaparte set in motion the vast 
enginery of war, preparatory to the invasion of 
Austria. Josephine detested constraint and for- 
mality, and, surrounded as she was by the rigid 
etiquette of the imperial court, she often repeated 
her favorite complaint : " Alas, how all this wearies 
me ... I have not a moment to myself. It would 
be better for me were I the wife of a laborer." 



312 JOSEPHINE. 

Soon after the coronation, a deputation of dis- 
tinguished men arrived from her native island, 
Martinique, to felicitate her on her elevation to 
supreme power. After an audience with the Em- 
peror, the deputation presented themselves before 
their august countrywoman and presented her with 
the following address : . . . " Madame, the French 
revere and cherish in your Imperial Majesty, the 
country in which their august sovereign first saw 
the light of day, that sovereign who uses her power 
but to contribute to their happiness. Martinique is 
proud to have had born within her limits one whom 
Providence had reserved for such high destinies, and 
who shows herself so worthy of her honors. This 
colony is content to shine in the reflected splendor 
which surrounds her. Its people hear with joy that 
mildness and beneficence are seated on the throne 
by the side of your Majesty ; that she is more 
adorned by her graces than by her crown ; that the 
advantages which are hers through her high rank, 
disappear under the charm of her personal qualities : 
and, much more touched by her goodness than by 
her grandeur, they offer her this homage, the out- 
come of the purest sentiment. " 

Reference having been made to the attempts of 
Josephine to draw her mother from her island home, 
in this connection, it may be at least relevant to in- 
troduce a few of her letters, written at various times 
during the Consulate and the Empire. 

In them all we perceive the loving daughter, the 
dutiful child, unstained by ambition and unspoiled 



JOSEPHINE. 313 

by the exercise of power. The first of this series is 
dated — 

"Pakis, 18th October, 1801. . . . 

"Dear Mamma,— I send this letter by the frigate 
which is despatched to Guadeloupe to announce the 
peace with England. . . . It is a long time, my dear 
mamma, since we have received news of you ; but 
we think of you often, and hope you are well. Are 
you happy, and do you still think of your Yeyette ? 

'' Eugene, is lieutenant-colonel in Bonaparte's 
guard of cavalry ; he often expresses the desire to go 
to Martinique to see his grandmamma. Hortense is 
now as large as I am ; she draws very well, and at 
this moment is painting a picture of Bonaparte tak- 
ing a walk in the park. This picture she intends 
for you. 

' ' Say to my Uncle Tascher, I pray you, that I desire 
him to come as quickly as possible to Paris, to give 
Bonaparte information upon Martinique ; he can 
now come by way of London, as communication is 
open between France and England. 

"Bonaparte . . . very much desires that you will 
come to France, if you think you can live in a 
climate so different from yours. If you can do so, 
try to arrive in the month of June. You ought to 
love Bonaparte, for he makes your daughter very 
happy ; he is good and amiable, in every way a 
charming man ; and, he loves your Yeyette very, 
very much. 

" Adieu, my dear mamma ; I love you with all my 



314 JOSEPHINE. 

heart ; your grandchildren join me in embracing 
you. 

"La Pagerie-Bonaparte. 

" Remember me to all my family and friends, and 
embrace my nurse for me." 

Seven months later, in May, 1802, she writes : . . . 

"My DEAR Mamma .... This letter I send by the 
hand of citizen Bertin. The choice that Bonaparte 
has made of him as prefect of Martinique, proves 
the esteem he has for him, and the care he has for 
the well-being of the colony. Citizen Bertin will 
give you the latest news about me, and will also 
give you a gold box, inlaid with diamonds, on which 
are the portraits of Bonaparte, of myself, and my 
children. It is a present to you from my husband, 
who hopes that it will please you, and that you will 
enjoy it a long time. I also wish to make you a 
present, my dear mamma, so I send you a beautiful 
chaplet given me and blessed by the hand of the 
Holy Father, the Pope. I cannot better prove to 
him the esteem in which I hold his present, than by 
giving it to the most virtuous and best of women. . , . 

' ' Bonaparte and I both have the greatest desire that 
you shall come to live with us. I hope that you will 
accede to our wishes, and the year will not pass be- 
fore we shall enjoy this great happiness. I wrote to 
you at the time of the marriage of your grand- 
daughter with one of the brothers of Bonaparte. 



JOSEPHINE. 315 

He is the fourth brother, and was raised by Bona- 
parte ; is colonel in a regiment of dragoons, and is 
only twenty-three years old. 

"They have been married but four months and 
already have sweet hopes of an heir. Soon I shall 
be a grandmother, but that seems to me very 
pleasant. 

"Write me often and give me news of all the 
family. 

"Advise my uncle to come to France, and to bring 
us all his boys. He ought also to send me my god- 
daughter. I will profit by every occasion, my dear 
mamma, to write to you, and to renew the assurance 
of the tender attachment of your daughter. Good- 
bye, dear and good mother mine. I embrace you 
with all my heart. 

"La Pagerie-Bonaparte. 

" I relinquish the pen to my children, who wish to 
write you. Write to Bonaparte, it will please him. 
Send me all the kinds of American seeds, fruits, 
sweet potatoes, bananas, oranges, mangos, — in fact, 
every kind you can. . . 

"Kindest remembrances to all friends." 

Six months later, November, 1802. . . , 

" Bonaparte is now visiting Havre, Eouen, in 
fact, all of Normandy, and I am accompanying him 
on the journey. Judge of my surprise and pleasure, 
this morning, to learn that a vessel was about to 



316 JOSEPHINE. 

depart for Martinique. My pleasure was all the 
greater, as there had already set sail two vessels, 
before I had learned their intention to depart, and 
therefore could not profit by the occasion to write 
you. . . . However, Bonaparte, sailing near to them, 
hailed the captain and told them to give you news 
of us. I am much happier, my dear mother, to 
give you this news myself, and to assure you that 
your children and grandchildren love you very 
much, have the greatest desire to see you, and that 
there is but one thing lacking to my happiness, and 
that is to have you near me. Give me, my dear 
mother, this satisfaction, and there will be nothing 
lacking. Sell your property in Martinique, and 
come buy some in France. You ought to want to 
live here now, with your children ; you cannot stay 
there in the colonies, after knowing how much they 
wish you to be with them. . . . 

'' I send you the particulars of the accouchement 
of Hortense ; three weeks ago she presented us with 
a beautiful little boy. Bonaparte will have him 
baptized, on our return, and will stand as god- 
father, and I as godmother. He will be called 
Napoleon. Louis Bonaparte wrote you to announce 
his birth ; he is the happiest of men, to be a father, 
and above all, of a big boy. It gives me pleasure 
to tell you that their marriage is a very happy one, 
and that they love each other very much. 

"By this time my brother-in-law, Jerome Bona- 
parte, should be with you. I am sure you will like 
him very much. Please kiss him on one cheek for 



JOSEPHINE. 317 

me, and give him a little slap on the other for not 
having written us. Eugene is with us at Havre, 
and is very well. Bonaparte has just named him 
Colonel. Tascher is liked by every one ; he is a 
model boy, and Bonaparte has placed him in a 
regiment. He is very happy. You can assure my 
uncle, that if he were my own child, I could not 
love him any better than I do dear Tascher. You 
would do well, my dear mamma, to profit by 
the vessels which touch at Havre to send me the 
trees and seeds which I asked you for. Send me 
every kind possible, even those which come from 
the woods. I send you the papers, in which you 
will see the welcome Bonaparte received at Rouen ; 
it would be difficult to paint the enthusiasm of the 
people wherever Bonaparte is seen. 

" Adieu, my dear mother ; we embrace you with 
all our hearts, and we love you always the same." 

The letters during the empire were in no wise 
different from those of the consulate, as these two, 
appended, written at intervals of two years, will 
testify. Like the others, they are extracted from 
the archives of the La-Pagerie family. 

" Paris, 30th January, 1805. . . 

" My dear Mamma — I send you news by my 
cousin, who sails for Martinique. I am sure you will 
be glad to learn from him everything that concerns 
the Emperor and interests me. I will not enter 
into details, but will give them to him to tell you, 



318 JOSEPHINE. 

that you may know the many proofs of attachment 
with which my family is loaded by the Emperor, 
and the happiness of your daughter. There is 
nothing he would not do to see you in France, and 
as well as myself, contribute to make your days 
peaceful and happy. 

" Make note of this, my dear mamma, and believe 
that I shall not be truly happy until you have come 
to share my happiness. 

"Pray remember me to my uncle, and to my 
aunt, Mdlle. de La-Pagerie. 

" Write me of everything that concerns you. I 

shall assume, with pleasure, all the advances you 

wish to make ; and in this matter, as in all others, 

I pray you to address me direct, and not the 

governor or any one else ; it suffices me to know 

your desires to have them gratified. . . . You have 

another grandson ; as I have already announced to 

you, the Princess Louis has given birth to another 

boy, who will be baptized by the Pope and named 

by the Emperor. 

"Josephine. 

" I send you a number of chaplets which have been 
blessed by the Holy Father." 

It was in the month of May that Napoleon was 
anointed King of Italy. That summer, the coali- 
tion between England, Russia, Sweden, and Austria 
was formed, by which these nations hoped to hurl 

* " Lettres de Napoleon a Josephine,^'' etc. 



JOSEPHINE. 319 

from his throne this monarch who seemed to aim 
at universal dominion, 

Eeturning swiftly to France, by the middle of 
July Bonaparte was at Fontainebleau ; on the 25th 
of September his army crossed the Ehine ; just a 
month later, the surrender of Mack, at Ulm, ter- 
minated this swift and decisive campaign. Almost 
the same day of the Ulm surrender occurred the 
battle of Trafalgar, by which the French naval 
marine was swept from the sea ; but by his achieve- 
ments on land Bonaparte retrieved his losses on the 
ocean. 

Dec. 2d, 1805, the terrible battle of Austerlitz 
swept the Eussians and Austrians from his path, 
the first anniversary of his coronation. Swift was 
he to avenge the treachery of his enemies ; terrible 
to punish ; his maneuvers and combinations were 
the alarm and the admiration of his foes. Yet, 
fascinating as it might be to follow this genius of 
battles in his unexampled career of conquest, we 
must not allow ourselves to be diverted from the 
object in view : to show Napoleon in his relation to 
his loving and loyal spouse. 

Josephine accompanied him as far as Strasbourg, 
in order to be near the scene of conflict, that she 
might receive quickly the tidings of his victories. 
For her faith in Napoleon never wavered ; it did 
not seem to occur to her that he could be other 
than victorious. She had changed, since the Italian 
campaign, when, as we have seen, she hesitated 
long before setting out for the cities of Italy. Now 



320 JOSEPHINE. 

she could not be near enough to her husband, could 
not be satisfied unless permitted to accompany him 
on all his campaigns. 

Again, there had been a change in Napoleon ; this 
change we will show in his letters, written in the 
heat of battle, as during the Italian conquests ; still 
breathing regard and deep attachment, though not 
pervaded by the fire of passion, as at that earlier 
period. The whole world knew of his achievements, 
many years ago ; former generations followed upon 
the course of his victories ; but few have been 
cognizant of the heart-history of this wonderful 
man and the beloved companion of his agitated life. 

We do not find in these later letters that exuber- 
ance, that amorous exaggeration, of the first. The 
lover of twenty-six is now thirty-seven ; the general 
of the army, then just rising into fame, is now 
Emperor of France ; his genius has expanded, but 
his heart is the same. As in Italy, we find the 
names of his immortal battle-fields in conjunction 
with expressions of love and solicitude ; but now 
they are those made famous by his exploits on this 
wonderful campaign : Ulm, Austerlitz, Jena, Eylau, 
Friedland, and Wagram. 

It was on the first of October that Bonaparte 
took command of his army ; the next day he wrote 
the first letter to Josephine, from Manheim : "I 
am still here and in good health. . The grand 
maneuvers have begun ; the army of Wurtemburg 
and Baden is now united with mine, I am in 
good position, and I love thee. . . . Napoleon." 



JOSEPHINE. 321 

On the fourth of October he writes •. ''I am at 
Louisburg. There is nothing new ; my army is on 
the march ; the weather is superb. I have com- 
pleted my union with the Bavarian Army. I am in 
the best of health. I expect m a few days to have 
something interesting to write you. (As indeed he 
did have. ) Take good care of thy health, and believe 
me, ever thine." * 

The next day he writes :..."! leave immediately 
to continue the march. Thou wilt be, my friend, 
five or six days without news from me ; but do 
not let that trouble thee. Everything is going 
well and as I expected. I have just assisted at 
the marriage of the son of the Elector with a 
niece of the King of Prussia, and I desire to make 
them a marriage present of some thirty-five or 
forty thousand francs. Please select it and send by 
one of my chamberlains when he returns to rejoin 
me. Adieu, my friend ; I love and embrace thee." 

As the Emperor had announced to Josephine, five 
or six days passed without news of him ; but then 



* " I never heard of any one tutoyer the First Consul. He did so 
by many of tliem, by Junot to the last ; it was only on ascending the 
throne that he ceased to address them in this familiar style in public. 
In the cordial intercourse of private friendship he continued to use 
the pronoun i/iOM." — Duchesse d'Abrantes. 

[This is the style throughout in Bonaparte's letters to Josephine ; 
but, as the familiar tutoying would seem very strange in English, you 
has been substituted for thee and thou. 

In the latter letters, however, the familiar style has been preserved 
in the translation, in order to show Bonaparte's attitude towards his 
wife — that his feelings had not changed.] 

21 



322 JOSEPHINE. 

the interruption was explained by the tidings of his 
successful engagement at Elchingen. He writes 
from Augsburg : "I am quartered with the old 
Elector of Treves, who is very well housed. I have 
been on the move for a week. The campaign has 
opened auspiciously. I am very well, though it has 
rained nearly every day. Events have followed one 
another rapidly. I have sent to France 4,000 
prisoners and eight flags, and have forty cannon, 
taken from the enemy. Adieu, my friend, I em- 
brace thee." 

After the surrender of Ulm : " I am in pretty 
good health, my good friend. ... I have taken 
sixty or seventy thousand prisoners, more than 
ninety flags, and two hundred pieces of cannon. . . . 
Take good care of thyself. I am a little tired. 
The weather has been fair the three days past. The 
first columns of prisoners start to-day for France, 
six thousand men in each column." 

Having taken her station as near the theater of 
events as Napoleon would allow her to be, at Stras- 
burg, Josephine transmitted to her daughter and 
to Joseph Bonaparte the news received from her 
husband. She writes to Hortense, on the 22d of 
October : . . . "I have promised, my dear Hor- 
tense, to Prince Joseph, who has written me a 
charming letter, to send a courier with the first 
news received. M. de Thiars wrote me, by order of 
the Emperor, all the details of our recent successes, 
and I immediately transmitted them to Prince 
Joseph, with the request that he would send to thee 



JOSEPHINE. 323 

and to thy husband. To-day I received a letter 
from the Emperor, which I send to thee, feeling 
sure that it will give thee the same pleasure as it 
did me. Kindly preserve it and return to me when 
I see thee. 

"All of the Emperor's staff are well ; not a single 
general was wounded, which news you will give to 
all the ladies whose husbands are in the army. On 
Thursday they will chant a Te Deum, and the same 
day I shall give a fete to the ladies of Strasburg. 

"Adieu, my dear Hortense, I love thee with all 
my heart and embrace thee. A thousand loving 
messages to thy husband and children." 

Arrived at Munich, where the people received with 
joy their deliverer, Bonaparte took much-needed 
repose, and wrote more at length to his wife of the 
astonishing events of this miraculous campaign. 
Josephine renewed her entreaties for permission 
to rejoin him there, but the Emperor declined to 
allow her to risk the journey. 

" I am very desirous to see thee," he wrote, " but 
cannot call tlree hither until an armistice be con- 
cluded or we shall have gone into winter quarters. 
A thousand kisses, my dear friend. " 

It was impossible that she should join him, for 
the army was soon pressing on again ; not long 
after she received a letter from the Austrian capi- 
tal, six weeks only after he had quitted the Seine : . . . 
" I have been here two days, my good friend. I 
am somewhat fatigued. I have not yet seen the 
city by day ; we entered in the night. To-morrow 



824 JOSEPHINE. 

I receive the notables. Nearly all my troops are 
beyond the Danube, in pursuit of the Eussians, 

"Adieu, my Josephine ; the first moment I find it 
possible, I will have thee come to me. A thousand 
loving messages for thee." 

In this simple language did the conqueror 
announce to his consort his occupation of the en- 
emies' capital. 



JOSEPHINE. 325 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

AUSTERLITZ TO WAGRAM. 

Master of Austria, the Emperor was then able 
to accede to Josephine's repeated entreaties and 
allow her to approach somewhat nearer to the seat 
of war. The 16th November he wrote her to pro- 
ceed to the capital of Bavaria, where she would find 
a beautiful palace at her disposal, and would meet 
with a good reception. 

He promised to rejoin her there as soon as he 
should have completed his campaign against the 
Russians ; and, though so occupied with schemes of 
the greatest magnitude : with one hand fighting the 
enemies of his country and with the other govern- 
ing the country of which he was the ruler, he yet 
found time to write her most minutely respecting 
her conduct and intercourse with the authorities. 
She was to remember that the Electrice of Bavaria 
was a daughter of the King of England, though 
apparently well disposed, etc. 

" I shall be very glad to see thee, the moment my 
affairs will permit. I am about leaving for my 
advance guard. The weather is horrible ; it snows 



826 JOSEPHINE. 

continually ; for the rest, everything is going well. 
Adieu, my good friend. 

"Napoleon." 

Josephine did not forget that she was Empress of 
France, wife of the invincible Napoleon ; and at the 
Bavarian court she impressed every one with her 
gentle dignity of character as well as by her grace. 
Thus she followed after the victorious army, gather- 
ing up the fruits of battles, cementing the ties new 
formed and sealing to her and to her spouse the 
hearts of the vanquished and liberated. 

While Josephine was performing this journey to 
Munich, occurred the greatest of Bonaparte's 
triumphs : the victory of Austerlitz. 

Immediately after the battle, while yet the cries of 
the wounded arose from the smoking field of con- 
flict, Napoleon wrote to his wife three letters, one 
after the other, which give sufficient testimony of 
his affectionate interest in her welfare. 

The first : 

"Austerlitz, 3d December, 1805. 

" I have sent to thee Lebrun, from the field of 
battle. I have beaten the Russian and Austrian 
armies commanded in person by the two Emperors. 
I am a little fatigued ; I have bivouacked a week 
in the open air ; to-night I sleep in the chateau of 
the Prince de Kaunitz. The Russian army is not 
only defeated, but destroyed. ... I embrace thee." 

" Austerlitz, Sth December. . . . 

" I have concluded a truce. . . . The battle of 



JOSEPHINE. 327 

Austerlitz is the greatest I have ever fought : forty- 
five flags, more than one hundred and fifty pieces of 
cannon, the standards of the Russian guard, twenty 
generals, thirty thousand prisoners, more than 
twenty thousand killed : a horrible spectacle. The 
Emperor Alexander is in despair and has set out for 
Russia. I met the Emperor of Germany, yesterday, 
at my bivouac, and conversed with him for two hours ; 
we are agreed to make peace quickly. ... I look 
forward with pleasure to the moment when I may 
join thee. Adieu, my good friend ; my health contin- 
ues good, and I am very desirous to embrace thee." 

" Austerlitz, 7tli December. . . . 

" I have concluded an armistice ; within a week 
peace will be made. I desire to know if you have 
reached Munich, and in good health. . . . The 
Russians have lost immensely : more than twenty 
thousand killed and thirty thousand prisoners ; 
their army is reduced two-thirds ; their general- 
in-chief is killed. I have three thousand wounded 
and seven or eight hundred killed. I have a little 
trouble with my eyes, but it will soon pass. . . . 
Adieu, my friend, I greatly desire to see thee." 

But Josephine was no more prompt in her replies 
to Napoleon's letters than during the campaign in 
Italy, and more than twenty days passed without 
news from her. The Emperor experienced anew 
the irritations of former times, and wrote her from 
Brunn, where he was detained while arranging the 
terms of the peace. . . . 



328 JOSEPHINE. 

"It is a long while since I have received news 
from thee. Have the fine fetes of Baden, Stuttgart 
and Munich made thee forget the poor soldiers 
covered with mud, drenched with rain and blood ? 
I soon leave for Vienna. We are working hard to 
accomplish the peace. The Eussians have fled to 
their own country, well beaten and very humiliated. 
I should like above all things to be near thee. 
Adieu, my friend ; my eyes are cured." 

The silence of Josephine still continued, and he 
then addressed one more appeal, in a tone of solemn 
pleasantry. 

" Great Empress, — Not a single line from you 
since your departure from Strasburg. You have 
visited Baden, Stuttgart, and Munich, without 
having written me a word ; that does not show much 
tenderness or affection. . . . Deign, from the height 
of your grandeur, to bestow a thought upon your 
slave. . . . Napoleon." 

She certainly owed to him, who had raised her to 
this height of grandeur, more than this indifference, 
We cannot believe that she was sensible of his 
deep devotion, and it cannot be denied that she in a 
measure merited the fate that later followed her in 
the act of divorce. Less explicable is the patience 
of Napoleon with her continued frivolities, than his 
toleration of them. 

Her excuse, given in a letter which he found 
awaiting him at Vienna was indisposition ; yet she 



JOSEPHINE. 329 

solicited permission to join him in the Austrian 
capital. 

^' I have received thy letter," he promptly answered 
her, ^' and note with pain that thou art suffering ; 
but it is not a good condition in which to make a 
long journey, at this season. I do not know what 
I shall do ; it depends upon events, . . . Remain at 
Munich, amuse th3^self : that is not difficult, sur- 
rounded as thou art by interesting persons and in 
such a beautiful country. I myself am very much 
occupied. In a few days I will decide. Adieu, my 
friend ; a thousand loving and tender ixiessages." 

Soon after, on the 26th of December, the treaty of 
Presburg was signed, and the Emperor hastened to 
rejoin the Empress at Munich. Her joy at seeing 
her royal spouse returned safe from the wars was 
doubled by his assurance that he intended to solicit 
the hand of the Princess Augusta, daughter of the 
Elector of Bavaria, for her son, Eugene. Her own 
opinion of the Princess was expressed in a letter to 
Hortense, in which she describes her as of most 
charming character and beautiful as an angel. The 
wedding followed in due course, four days after 
Eugene's arrival from Italy, to which country the 
young Viceroy soon returned with his beautiful 
bride. The same day Bonaparte and the Empress 
started for Paris, where they arrived on the night 
of the 26th January, 1806. 

Josephine had the pleasure to find there her uncle, 
the Chevalier, Baron de Tascher, recently arrived 
from Martinique, and whom she had not seen for 



330 JOSEPHINE. 

fifteen years. His sister, Mme. de Eenaudin, and the 
Marquis de Beauharnais, whom she had married 
late in life, had both deceased during the Consulate. 
The only one of the old household remaining was 
the Countess Fanny de Beauharnais, who was pass- 
ing her old age in the cultivation of the muses. 

The Countess Fanny had a son, the Count Claude, 
whose daughter, Stephanie, became the protege of 
Josephine, who had her educated, and for whose 
future Napoleon provided, by marrying her to the 
Prince of Baden. 

Stephanie became the spoiled child of the Court ; 
it is related that the sisters of Napoleon were offended 
at certain favors bestowed upon her, and especially 
because she was exempt from standing in their 
presence. She complained to Napoleon that they 
would not allow her to be seated, when he said to 
her : "Well, then, come sit on my knee ; you will 
not incommode them there." 

She objected to the manner of her marriage with 
the Prince of Baden, and for a long time treated 
him with disdain ; but finally left the Court with him 
and was taken to the home he had provided for her. 
This was the second alliance Napoleon had con- 
tracted in behalf of the adopted relatives of his wife ; 
that of the Viceroy and the Princess of Bavaria was 
perhaps the only one that had happy issuance. 

The Baron de Tascher died suddenly, a month 
after the return of Josephine and Napoleon to Paris, 
surrounded by his children, whom he recommended 
to the attention of the Emperor. 



JOSEPHINE. 331 

The year 1806 witnessed two crowns upon the 
brows of Bonaparte's brothers : Louis, king of 
Holland, and Joseph, king of Naples. Dukedoms 
and principalities were parceled out to the members 
of his family and his Court, and the imperial 
authority strengthened by these parvenu princes 
and their retainers. 

The confederation of the Rhine was formed, with 
Bonaparte as protector, in July, and the German 
empire was dissolved in August. 

The departure of Queen Hortense, in June, was 
a subject of grief to Josephine, who felt for her 
daughter the liveliest sympathy, and in whose society 
she spent a great portion of her time. 

For the unhappy issue of the marriage of Hortense 
with Louis Bonaparte Josephine must have felt 
somewhat responsible, and possibly remorseful. 
Both the Empress and the Emperor strove to heal 
the ever- widening breach between this ill-assorted 
couple. 

Josephine's letters to her daughter are replete with 
tenderness and filled with solicitude : 

" Since thy departure," she wrote a month later, 
"I have been quite ill with fever, but chiefly from 
chagrin at thy absence. How can I endure this 
separation from thee, from my daughter, so sweet, 
so tender and loving as thou, who art the charm of 
my life ? My God ! I am so sad because I cannot 
see thee often. And thy health, my dear Hortense, 
is it good ? If thou art ever sick, let me know at 
once, and I will hasten to the side of my best- 



332 JOSEPHINE. 

beloved. . . . Adieu, my dear Hortense, my darling 
daughter ; think often of thy mother, and persuade 
thyself that never was daughter loved as thou art." 

Hortense had been united in marriage to Louis 
Bonaparte, on the Tth of January, 1802. Of this 
union, Bonaparte said at Saint Helena : speaking 
of Louis and Hortense : " They loved each other 
when they were married ; they desired to be united : 
the marriage was also the result of Josephine's 
intrigues, who found her account in it." 

The Duchess d'Abrantes, who was intimate with 
her family, pays a well-meant tribute to her char- 
acter : . , . 

" In September '95, she was entrusted to the care 
of Madame Campan, formerly a lady-in-waiting to 
Marie Antoinette, who at that time kept a boarding- 
school in which were revived all the social and 
religious traditions of the old regime. . . . Among 
her companions were Stephanie de Beauharnais, the 
future Grand Duchess of Baden ; Caroline Bona- 
parte, future queen of Naples ; Elisa Munroe, 
daughter of a future president of the United States. 
. . . She was light-hearted and happy, 

' ' Bonaparte was as fond of her as though she were 
his own child. He used to say of her : ' Hortense 
makes me believe in virtue.' 

' ' She was likely to fall in love with Duroc ; but 
was forced to marry Louis Bonaparte. The civil 
ceremony took place January 3, 1802, at the Tuileries, 
in the presence of the Bonaparte and Beauharnais 
families. Mass was not yet said in this palace, and 



JOSEPHINE. 333 

it was in the house in the Eue de la Victoire, where 
Josephine Hved when she married Napoleon, that 
the marriage took place, 

" A polished and well-conducted education had 
improved her natural talents ; she drew excellently, 
sang harmoniously, and performed admirably in 
comedy. 

" In 1800 she was a charming young girl ; she after- 
wards became one of the most amiable princesses 
of Europe. I have seen many, both in their own 
courts and in Paris, but I have never known one who 
had any pretensions to equal talents. She was 
beloved by every one, though of all who surrounded 
her her mother seemed to be the least conscious 
of her attractions. . . . Her brother loved her 
tenderly ; the First Consul looked upon her as his 
child ; and it was only in that country, so fertile in 
the inventions of scandal, that so foolish an accusa- 
tion could have been imagined as that any feeling 
less pure than paternal affection actuated his con- 
duct towards her. The vile calumny met with the 
contempt it merited, and is now only remembered 
to be confuted. 

''Hortense, in fact, while she was Mademoiselle 
Beauharnais, regarded Napoleon with respectful 
awe. She trembled when she spoke to him, and 
never dared to ask him a favor. When she had 
anything to solicit she applied to me ; and if I 
experienced any difficulty in obtaining for her what 
I sought, I mentioned her as the person for whom I 
pleaded. 'The little simpleton,' Napoleon would 



334 JOSEPHINE. 

say, ' why does she not ask me herself ; is the girl 
afraid of me ? ' " 

A new coalition was formed, at the instigation 
of England, between Kussia and Prussia, against 
France. With his usual promptitude, Napoleon 
hurled himself against the allied armies, and soon 
reduced them to the condition of the Eussians and 
Austrians, the year before. He left Saint Cloud 
on the 25th September, and just a month later he 
was master of Germany, issuing his commands from 
its capital. After having installed the Empress at 
Mayence (for she insisted upon accompanying him 
to a point as near as possible to the seat of war), 
Napoleon, on the first of October, formally opened 
the campaign. A week later he wrote : . . . " My 
friend : — All my army is in motion. Everything is 
going well, and my health is perfect. A thousand 
kisses and good health." 

On the 13th, in the night, and probably in the 
midst of those mighty combinations which resulted 
in the overthrow of the Prussian hosts the next day, 
at the battle of Jena, he wrote to Josephine : . . . 
"My good friend, everything is moving well, just 
as I had expected. With the aid of God, in a few 
days I will be able to assume a character likely to 
trouble the poor King of Prussia, whom I pity, as 
personally he is a good man. The Queen is at 
Erf urth with the King. If she wishes to witness a 
battle, she will surely have that dreadful pleasure. 
I am marvelously well, and have gained flesh, not- 
withstanding I have traveled at the rate of twenty 



JOSEPHINE. 335 

and twenty-five leagues a day, on horseback, in 
voiture, in every way possible. Ever thine." 

It was the voice of the warrior, of the great 
captain, in the midst of war's alarms, rejoicing in 
his strength, performing prodigies of valor and con- 
founding his enemies by his magnificent combina- 
tions. 

Two days passed, and then, after the terrible 
battle, he writes to his Queen of the events of the 
dreadful day of Jena. . . . 

" Jena, 15th October, three o'plock in the morning. 

''My Friend . . . I have accomplished the grand- 
est of achievements against the Prussians. I gained, 
yesterday, a great victory. There were 150,000 
men ; I took 20,000 prisoners, 100 pieces of cannon 
and flags. I was at one time near the King, whom 
I just missed capturing, as well as the Queen. We 
have bivouacked for two days. I was never better. 
Adieu, my friend ; take care of thy health, and love 
me." 

The delay in summoning her to join him, gave 
Josephine occasion to indulge in a fit of jealousy, 
and she doubtless accused her absent spouse of some 
indiscretion since he rejoined: . . . "I have re- 
ceived thy letter of the 27th of November, by which 
I see that thy little head is turned. I am reminded 
of this verse. . . . ' Desir de femme est un feu qui 
devore '. . . . Please calm thyself. I have already 
written thee that when winter quarters are estab- 
lished I will send for thee." 



336 JOSEPHINE. 

It having been found impossible to send for the 
Empress, Napoleon ordered her to return to Paris, 
and she reached the capital about the last of 
January, 1807. His letters of this month are loving 
and frequent, though it was at this time Napoleon 
met and fell in love with the beautiful Polish 
woman, the Countess Walewski, who, more than 
any other, affected his later life. 

Josephine received intimations of this new infatu- 
ation of the Emperor, which her instinctive jealousy 
had foreseen, and was rendered extremely uneasy, 
without being able to combat her unseen foe. 

The winter passed away and the summer ; finally 
occurred the decisive battle of Friedland, when the 
Russians were totally defeated. 

It was in January, 1807, that Napoleon met the 
woman he came nearest to loving after Josephine : 
the Countess Walewski, whom he first saw when in 
Poland. He was enamored of her at first sight, 
but she at first repulsed his advances, and only 
yielded upon the representation of her friends, and 
even of her relatives, that she should do so in the 
interests of Poland. Notwithstanding the harsh- 
ness of her wooing, she became strongly attached 
to Bonaparte ; when he returned to Paris she was 
established there, and bore him a son, on the fourth 
of May, 1810. In her own country she was regarded 
as a martyr, a victim for the good of Poland, and 
was not censured for her infidelity to her husband. 
She clung to Napoleon's fortunes to the last, visiting 
him at Elba, having in her company their little son. 



JOSEPHINE. 337 

But after his exile to Saint Helena she gave up all 
hope of meeting him again, and, her first husband 
being dead, married a certain Count d'Ornano ; but 
died in December, the same year, 1818, 

This was undoubtedly the grand passion of Napo- 
leon's later life, and his attachment for its object 
lasted the longest. It is a sad comment upon his 
character, that he was never more alive to the great 
worth of his wife than at this time ; at no time 
had he seemed so thoroughly attached to her. 

Mme. de Remusat confirms this story of the 
" Polish lady, " and adds : ' ' This extraordinary woo- 
ing did not, however, prevent the young lady from 
becoming attached to the Emperor, for their liaison 
was prolonged during several campaigns. ... A son 
was born, who became the object of the hopes of 
Poland. ..." etc.* 

The ninth of February, immediately after the 
terrible battle of Eylau, Napoleon had written to 
his wife : . . . " My friend, a great battle took place 
yesterday ; victory rested with me, but I lost much ; 
the loss of the enemy, which is vastly more than 

* Consult " Jfapoleon, Lover and Husband," for particulars of this 
strange affair. 

" The Emperor and all the French officers paid their tribute of 
admiration to the charms of the fair Poles. There was one whose 
powerful fascinations made a deep impression on the Emperor's 
heart. He conceived an ardent affection for her, which she cordially 
returned. She received with pride the homage of a conquest which 
was the consummation of her happiness (?) It is needless to name 
her, when I observe that her attachment remained unshaken amidst 
every danger, and that at the period of Napoleon' s reverses she con- 
tinued his faithful friend. — Memoirs of the Duke of Rovigo. 

22 



338 JOSEPHINE, 

ours, does not console me. I write these few lines 
with my own hand, though I am nearly dead with 
fatigue, in order to tell thee that I am well, and that 
I love thee. ... It was a horrible battle ; the coun- 
try is covered with the dead ; my soul is sick at the 
sight of so many victims. . . . Do not grieve, I pray 
thee, all will be finished soon, and in the happiness 
of seeing thee I shall forget all my fatigues." 

The Russians were beaten, but not defeated, and 
Bon aparte would not leave the field until he had forced 
a definitive peace. Meanwhile, at Paris, Joseph- 
ine had, by his orders, carried out her part in the im- 
perial programme by entertaining at the Tuileries 
a gay and distinguished company. Hearing that 
the Empress had visited some of the ateliers and 
museums without much ceremony, and in a style 
not comportable to her rank, he wrote her a letter of 
reproach, in which, for the first time, he makes 
use of the word you, instead of the thou, which 
was his custom in familiar intercourse. This lapse 
from his accustomed tone of tenderness was very 
afflicting to Josephine, who complained of it, and 
he redoubled his attentions in the letters follow- 
ing : "I have received," said he, " ih.j letter of the 
5th of April, in which I see with pain that thou art 
vexed at something I have said. . . . Thy little 
Creole head is turned, thou art afiiicted ! Well, we 
will say no more about it. . . Thou must not think 
of coming hither, that is impossible. . . . There are 
many things I would prefer to war, but duty must 
be held above everything else. . . . All my life I 



JOSEPHINE. 339 

have sacrificed : tranquillity, interest, happiness, to 
my destiny." 

His destiny ; it was ever this implacable ' ' des- 
tiny," which resounded in the ears of Josephine, fore- 
boding the fate that was to be hers ! 

He was then deep in his amour with the Countess 
Walewski, but at this time he wrote to Josephine 
in a style that reminds one of those letters from 
Italy, many years before, when he was in the first 
throes of his passion. Perhaps she was vicariously 
receiving a love that another was usurping ? It did 
not deceive her ; but it was accepted as a harbinger 
of a better understanding. . . . "I have received 
thy letter. I do not know who are the objects of 
your suspicions. I love only my little Josephine, 
so good, pouting, capricious, who can quarrel with 
such grace, even as she does everything ; because 
she is always amiable, except when she is jealous : 
then she becomes a little devil." 

But these imaginary evils, conjured up by the jeal- 
ousy of Josephine, were to give place to real grief, 
and were swallowed up in the tide of sorrow that 
swelled the heart of the Empress-mother, in the 
month of May. For this month, the tidings came 
that the Prince-royal of Holland, the young Napo- 
leon, son of Hortense and Louis Bonaparte, had died 
of croup. 

This promising child, aged but five years, the 
eldest son of the King and Queen of Holland, was 
looked upon by Napoleon as the future heir to the 
throne of France, in default of children by Joseph- 



340 JOSEPHINE. 

ine ; and his unexpected demise was the severest 
blow that could have been given to her hopes of con- 
tinuance in power as the consort of Napoleon. He 
had received the name of his august uncle, was his 
pet and the object of his thoughts, and was greatly 
beloved by both the Emperor and the Empress. 

Immediately upon receipt of the distressing news, 
Josephine felt a strong inclination to be near her 
daughter and at once set out to seek her. On the 
Vv^ay, however, she reflected that the Emperor would 
not sanction her leaving France, during his absence, 
and so she halted within the frontier, and addressed 
a touching letter to her daughter, imploring her 
presence. ..." I have just arrived at the chateau 
of Lecken, near Brussels, my dear daughter, and 
here I await you. Come at once to restore me to 
life ; thy presence is necessary to my existence, and 
thou shouldst also wish to see thy mother and 
mingle thy tears with hers. I would continue fur- 
ther, but fear the Emperor would not approve my 
leaving the territory of France during his absence. 
But having come thus far I will await thee here. 
Adieu, my dear daughter ; I am overcome with 
fatigue, but above all with grief." 

It was several days before the Queen of Holland 
could accede to her mother's request and join her, 
and meanwhile Bonaparte had received the sad in- 
telligence that deprived him of hope for an heir in 
the line of descent through Hortense and his brother 
Louis. 

It was a severe blow to his plans for the Napo- 



JOSEPHINE. B41 

leonic succession ; but he rallied from this, as he 
recovered from every severe misfortune that over- 
took him ; he wrote to Josephine no less than five 
consolatory letters, advising her to forget her private 
griefs in the exigencies of the occasion. . . . 

. . . '' I can understand thy grief at the death of 
the poor Napoleon ; I wish I could be near to thee 
to assuage thy sorrow. Thou hast had the good 
fortune to have been exempt from the loss of thy 
children ; but it is a condition attached to our mis- 
erable existence. ... I hope to learn that thou hast 
been rational and art well. Wouldst thou willingly 
add to my distress ? " 

Hortense arrived at the chateau on the 16th of 
May, where she found the consolation that only a 
mother can give. Her grief had petrified her, she 
was suffering in that stony silence that forebodes 
the worst ; but upon being received within her 
mother's arms, and hearing the expressions of ten- 
derness with which she was received, she burst into 
tears and her surcharged heart found relief. She 
threw herself sobbing upon her mother's breast, 
and the crisis was passed which, the physician had 
declared, might have terminated her existence. 

The Empress took her sorrowing daughter to 
Paris, where she strove to divert her from her grief. 
But she fell into a stupor of melancholy from which 
it was impossible to rescue her. At this stage, the 
Emperor wrote her most affectionately to rally from 
her sorrow and remember that she still owed some- 
thing to her surviving children and to her family. 



342 JOSEPHINE. 

"My Daughter," wrote Napoleon, from Dantzic, 
on the second of June, " you have not written me a 
smgle word, in your great sorrow. . . . What they 
tell me, that you love nobody, that you are indiffer- 
ent to all, I am constrained to believe from your 
silence. 

" This is not well, Hortense, this is not what 
you promised. Your son is with you still. Your 
mother and myself : are we nothing to you ? Adieu, 
my daughter. Try to be cheerful ; it is necessary 
to be resigned. . . . My wife is very much distressed 
at your condition ; do not add to her grief. Your 
affectionate father, 

''Napoleon." 

In the death of the young Napoleon a terrible 
blow had fallen upon them all ; the last hope of the 
Napoleonic succession seemed to have perished with 
him.* 

*"The situation of the Bonaparte family did not favor the establish- 
ment of the principle of hereditary succession. Napoleon was mar- 
ried to a woman who could have no children ; his eldest brother, 
Joseph, had no sons ; his brothers, Lucien and Jerome, had contract- 
ed marriages which were in his eyes misalliances which could not be 
pardoned. Louis only was left to perpetuate the Imperial race, and 
he through insane jealousy refused connivance. His son, Napoleon 
Charles, born 1802, Oct. 10th, was looked upon as the likely successor 
until his death put an end to all hopes, 5th May, 1807. An impor- 
tant effect ixpon the fortunes of Josephine. Jerome was not quite 
twenty when he married Miss Patterson. The law of 20th Sept., 
1792, declared null and void a marriage contracted by a person less 
than twenty years old, without the consent of both parents. It was 
in Feb., 1805, that Madame Letitia placed in the hands of a notary a 
protest against her sou's marriage." 



JOSEPHINE. 343 



CHAPTER XXV. 

PORTENTS OF DISASTER. 

No one was more keenly conscious of her loss of 
prestige than Josephine herself. Having lost, by 
the death of her grandson, the only prop that sup- 
ported her feeble claim to the throne, and unable to 
furnish Napoleon the heir he so ardently desired, 
she now felt that the question of divorce was merely 
a matter of time. 

While in this state of anxiety tidings arrived of 
the victory of Friedland, announced to Josephine by 
a letter from her husband : . . . 

" My Friend, — I can write thee but a word, 
because I am so fatigued. . . . My children have 
worthily celebrated the anniversary of Marengo. 
The battle of Friedland will also be celebrated, and 
redound to the glory of my people. The entire 
Eussian army has been routed : 80 pieces of cannon 
taken ; 30,000 men captured or killed ; 25 generals 
killed, wounded or taken ; the Russian guard de- 
stroyed : This is a worthy sister of Marengo, of 
Austerlitz, of Jena. The bulletin will give thee 
the rest. . . . Adieu, my friend, I go to mount my 
horse. 

"Napoleon." 



344 JOSEPHINE. 

Hortense had been ordered by her physicians to 
the Pyrenees, for the benefit of the waters there, 
and thither Josephine despatched an account of the 
meeting of the two Emperors, of France and Eussia, 
on the raft in the Nieman. 

''I am receiving frequently, my dear Hortense, 
news from the Emperor. He speaks often of the 
Emperor Alexander, with whom he is well pleased. 
He has sent to me two gentlemen who witnessed 
the late events, and they tell me that the first inter- 
view was a magnificent spectacle. The Emperor 
was the first to arrive at the pavilion constructed 
in the middle of the river ; the two armies were 
upon the right and the left bank, respectively. . . . 
They say that at the moment the two Emperors 
embraced the air was rent with the acclamations of 
both armies. That which interests me most is that 
I shall soon see the Emperor. . . . Keep me in thy 
thoughts, and believe, my dear daughter, in the 
continued solicitude of thy mother." 

At the treaty of Tilsit, Napoleon may be said to 
have been at the apogee of his glory and power. 
Notwithstanding the great events in which he was 
engaged, which indeed he was shaping. Napoleon 
did not neglect to write to Josephine frequently. 
On the same day the treaty was signed, in fact, he 
despatched a tender epistle to his wife. . . . 

" July Yth, 1807, — My friend ; the Queen of Prus- 
sia dined with me yesterday. . . . She is very ami- 
able. . . . When you shall have read this letter the 



JOSEPHINE. 345 

peace with Prussia and Russia will have been al- 
ready concluded, and Jerome recognized as King of 
Westphalia, with 3,000,000 subjects. This news for 
thee alone. . . . Adieu, my friend, I love thee, and 
wish to know that thou art happy." 

Three weeks later Bonaparte was in Paris, wel- 
comed by the transports of his loving people. One 
may imagine the joy of the Empress, after this long 
and sorrowful separation of ten months. 

Her doubts were set at rest, even though her 
husband was still filled with thoughts of his high 
destiny. Destiny, a word he had written more than 
once. 

But there was no change in his affections ; he 
still regarded her with tenderness, still surrounded 
her with every attention ; her jealous sentiments 
were lulled to rest, she lapsed into a feeling of 
security. 

After his return from Tilsit the Emperor devoted 
all his time to the internal affairs of France, and 
especially to the reorganization of his court. 

Since the fall of the monarchy, some five or six 
different governments had succeeded ; but neither 
the horrors of the Revolution nor the rapid march 
of events during the Consulate and Directory, had 
effaced from the memory of the people all recollec- 
tion of the ancient splendors and prestige of the 
royal court. All the vast energies of the Emperor 
were now directed to a revival of those courtly 
customs and usages, by which monarchical institu- 



346 JOSEPHINE. 

tions are preserved and entrenched in the regard of 
the people. 

The throne once firmly established, a natural con- 
sequence of this restoration was the return to the 
traditional splendor and brilliant appanage con- 
sidered necessary to a maintenance of the supreme 
power. Although the newly-risen court of Napo- 
leon was ridiculed, and even held up to detesta- 
tion by the ancienne noblesse, yet there were few 
who did not hasten to be included in its reorganiza- 
tion. All-powerful by the greatness of his char- 
acter, feared on account of his numerous victories, 
and with a profound understanding of the springs 
of human motives. Napoleon did not doubt that his 
court would become firmly established in the re- 
spect of his people and honored by the presence of 
the foreign ambassadors. 

Since the establishment of the Consulate, in fact, 
he had not ceased to gather about him whatever 
would add to the brilliancy and effect of his sur- 
roundings. 

We have seen the gradual accretions to his little 
court, from the modest beginnings at the Luxem- 
bourg, through the quasi-imperial receptions at the 
Tuileries and Saint-Cloud, and during the three 
years just concluded. The first was the formative 
period, and the second and accomplished achievement 
terminated at the end of 1807, or at the culmination 
of his career of glory. 

We may, rather, say that the first full period con- 
tinued five years, and may be called the reign of 



JOSEPHINE. 347 

Josephine ; the following, or the reign of Maria 
Louisa, from the year 1810 until his fall. 

The period of ascendency was during the reign 
of Josephine. To her was given the glorious task 
of restoring to France the usages and traditional 
manners of royalty. To her tact, her ability, her 
feminine power of pleasing and reconciling the 
many incongruous elements of the new court, was 
due the successful re-establishment of the imperial 
regime. 

It required all the genius of Napoleon and all the 
wonderful tact and address of his accomplished 
consort, to unite the old nobility with the parvenu 
aristocracy created by Bonaparte. 

His most cherished idea was the fusion of these 
two elements so opposite in character ; the one 
founded upon claim of ancient ancestry, the other 
based upon glorious achievements. That it was 
accomplished, should redound to the credit of the 
great man who did it, of the one who thus laid the 
foundation for the reconciliation of the opposite 
classes in dismembered France. 

Through the medium of his court. Napoleon 
bridged the chasm which had so long separated the 
new France from the old ; hands that had been 
raised against each other in battle, were now clasped 
in amity. The result was soon seen in the amelio- 
ration of manners, in the extinguishment of hates 
and the fusion of parties. 

There was no longer any pretext for the return 
of the Bourbons ; for the flower of their aristocracy 



348 JOSEPHINE. 

might be found attached to the Court of Napoleon, 
the glitter and pomp of which were sufficient to 
satisfy the most exacting Eoyalist. 

Independently of the great offices filled by Fesch, 
Berthier, Duroc, Talleyrand, Caulaincourt and Segur, 
there were appointed twenty court chamberlains, com- 
prising some of the greatest names in the Empire ; 
after these came the prefects of the palace, three 
in number ; an almoner, two equerries, and pages 
to the number of forty. 

The household of the Empress was composed of 
the first almoner, a lady of honor, mistress of the 
robes, and numerous ladies of the palace {dames du 
palais), wives of Napoleon's marshals, and some of 
the old nobility. . . . "Madame Bonaparte," says 
Mme. de Eemusat, one of these same ladies-in-wait- 
ing, " had her head turned for a time by finding real 
grandes dames among her ladies-in-waiting." 

An establishment was also created for the mother 
of Bonaparte, the " Imperatrice-Mere,^^ who was 
likewise surrounded by aristocratic ladies, both of 
the old regime and modern creation. 

Eegarding the jealousies and the heart-burnings 
of these grandes dames subjected to attendance 
upon the ''parvenu emperor" and his wife, sisters, 
and mother, we shall be silent ; several of them 
have given their plaints to the world : as Mme. de 
Eemusat and the Duchess d'Abrantes, in whose in- 
teresting narratives much of value may be dis- 
covered. 

After two months' absence from her daughter, 



JOSEPHINE. 349 

Josephine visited her at her retreat, finding her 
composed and in good health. The husband of 
Hortense left her with the Empress and returned to 
Holland ; but the Queen did not dare accompany 
him, fearing the effect of the climate, which she 
believed had caused the death of her eldest son. 

At the beginning of September, 1807, the court 
was transported to Fontainebleau, where numerous 
fetes were given and diplomatic receptions held on a 
grand scale. . . . Oneof the fetes was given in honor 
of the marriage of the new king of Westphalia, 
Jerome Bonaparte, with the Princess Catherine of 
Wurtemburg. This marriage, which, like that of 
the Prince Eugene with the Princess of Bavaria, was 
one of policy, promoted by the ambition of Napoleon, 
was in the end a happy one ; and neither had occa- 
sion to regret the event. 

It was while at Fontainebleau that Josephine re- 
ceived the first intimation that her divorce was any- 
thing more than a carefully- guarded, secret thought 
of the Emperor, in the proposition from the wily 
Fouche, minister of police, that she should sacrifice 
herself to the glory of France and the best interests 
of Bonaparte's family. She was amazed, and at 
first thought this man but an agent of Napoleon's, 
sent to prepare her for the inevitable change. 

It was true, as he urged, that she had given her 
husband no heir to the throne ; that there was no 
prospect favorable to such an event ; that Napoleon's 
heart was filled with the desire to transmit his 
throne and his glory to a successor of his own 



350 JOSEPHINE. 

blood ; and that his highest ambition would only be 
gratified by the consummation of his desires in this 
regard. 

It was soon shown that the officious minister had 
acted without the sanction, even without the knowl- 
edge, of his chief ; that he had wished to sound the 
public opinion upon the subject of divorce and to 
prepare France for such an event ; and that he had 
promulgated the idea of an alliance of Napoleon 
with the Grand-duchess, Catherine of Eussia. He 
well knew the repugnance of the Emperor to the 
idea of divorce, and his love for one who had ever 
been devoted to his best interests. But he conceived 
the project of forcing his hand, and libeled both 
parties to this projected separation, by speaking of 
it as an eventuality likely to occur. 

The Empress, prostrated by this covert attack, 
had replied that there was no sacrifice she would 
not make for her husband or for the good of France, 
but gave way to her grief ; and one day, finding her 
in tears, Napoleon demanded the cause. 

She told him ; he was furious, and at once com- 
manded the culpable Fouche to come before him, 
threatened to deprive him of his position, and his 
resentment was only calmed by the interposition of 
his brothers and Murat. 

Fouche had treated his Empress with character- 
estic ingratitude ; but the result of his machinations 
was only to cement more firmly the friendship be- 
tween the royal pair ; not then, at least, was the act 
of separation to be announced. 



JOSEPHINE. 351 

Her happiness now reassured, Josephine was 
about to send to her aged mother a last and most 
pressing invitation to join her, when she received 
the afflicting intelligence of her demise.* 

Thus did joy and sadness alternate in her life ; 
even the briefest interval of happiness soon gave 
place to grief. 

The etiquette of the Court forbade her to put on 
the habiliments of mourning, but she wept in secret 
for this devoted mother, the last link that united 
place her to the place of her birth. 

By the orders of Bonaparte, a letter was forwarded 
to the high officials of Martinique, conveying his 
thanks for their attentions to Madame de La-Pagerie 
in her last moments and for their respect to her 
memory. He also ordered that a piece of marble 
should be suitably engraved and placed above or 
near her tomb, to indicate the last resting-place of 
the mother of the Empress Josephine and mother- 
in-law of Bonaparte, Emperor of France. 

* Josephine's last letter to her mother. 

"Paeis 11th February, 1807. 
" My deae Mamma. 

" I embrace the opportunity afforded by the departure of M. 
Duquesne to send you a letter and to greet you. My health is good. 
I returned hither from Mayence the first of the month. The Em- 
peror is well. I received a letter from him, dated the 1st February, 
when he was some forty leagues the other side Varsovia, the Eus- 
sians retreating before him. 

" I had my daughter with me during my stay at Mayence ; but she 
returned to the Hague, to be with the King. 

" I expect that soon Eugene will present me with a little grandson, 
as the Princess Augusta is about to be confined, and I am in daily 



352 JOSEPHINE. 

At the end of November Bonaparte departed for 
Italy, refusing the entreaties of Josephine to be al- 
lowed to accompany him thither ; but making amends 
for his refusal by bestowing upon her son, the Vice- 
roy, the title of successor to the crown of Italy. 

This was a tardy sanction of his act of nearly 
two years before, upon the occasion of Eugene's 
marriage ; but none the less gratifying to the young 
Prince and his mother. 

Napoleon returned to Paris in January, 1808, and 
commenced at the Tuileries those fetes, balls, and re- 
ceptions that gave such an impulse to trade and air 
of gayety to the capital. Towards the end of the 
month another marriage was celebrated : that of 
the young and beautiful niece of the Empress, Mile, 
de Tascher, with one of the princes of the Ehine 
Confederation. 

Scarcely had the attendant fetes been consum- 
mated, when the trouble began over the succession 
to the Spanish throne, and Bonaparte hastened with 

expectation of news of the event. ... I will attend to the matter of 
which you wrote me in your last letters. ... I am only too glad to be 
useful to our colony and to persons in whom you are interested. 
Adieu, my dear mamma ; he very careful of your health, which I 
hope still continues good. This hope only compensates me for not 
seeing you. Think of me sometimes, and be assured that no one 
loves you more tenderly than your daughter. . . . 

" Josephine." 

This letter could not have reached its intended recipient very long 
in advance of her demise, which occurred in June, the same year. It 
will be seen that to the last Josephine kept her mother in view, was 
solicitous as to her welfare, and desirous that she should come to her 
in France. 



JOSEPHINE. 353 

his wife to the Spanish frontier. On this journey 
Josephine was of incalculable assistance to Napoleon, 
by her unwearied attendance at fetes and receptions, 
her tact and adroitness, her pleasing manners. 
There was no indication of the intentions of Bona- 
parte in this matter of divorce, though it is possible 
he had already decided upon its necessity. At 
Bordeaux, Josephine received intelligence of the 
birth of a third son to Hortense and Louis, and on 
the 23d April wrote her an affectionate letter of con- 
gratulation. Two days after another, in which she 
assures her daughter of Napoleon's satisfaction that 
she has become the mother of another boy, instead 
of a daughter. 

Both the Empress and the Emperor entertained, 
without doubt, the liveliest hopes that this son 
m.ight eventually become the hope of the empire. 
The obstinacy of Louis, in refusing to his brother 
any voice in his future, was the death of their ex- 
pectations. 

They returned to Paris in August, both with sad- 
dened spirits ; for Bonaparte had received intelli- 
gence of the defeat of his troops in Spain ; and 
Josephine already felt gnawing at her heart that 
presentiment of disaster that attended all the oper- 
ations of Bonaparte in the Spanish peninsula. 

The Emperor believed his presence necessary to 
the safety of his army in Spain, to avenge this first 
check to his military fortune ; but he first attended 
the conference at Erfurth, where he met the 
Emperor Alexander and the German sovereigns. 
23 



354 JOSEPHINE. 

He wrote to Josephine that he was very much in 
love with Alexander, and if he were a woman he 
would surely seek his hand in marriage. This 
pleasantry was far from agreeable to Josephine, 
because she had good reason to believe that the 
Russian Emperor was desirous to enter into more 
intimate relations with Bonaparte, through a matri- 
monial alliance. In fact, rumor had it that he had 
offered Napoleon the hand of his sister, the Princess 
Anne, and that the Emperor had not returned a 
positive answer. 

On his return from Erfurth the Emperor passed 
a few days in Paris, and then hastened towards 
Spain, where his presence was most urgently 
needed. Josephine was filled with apprehension at 
the outcome of the Spanish wars, and allowed the 
Emperor to leave her only after her most earnest 
protest against its continuance. The war in Spain, 
as history has told us, was the beginning of Bona- 
parte's downward career. But for Spain, there 
would not have ensued the Austrian and Russian 
complications ; in placing his brother upon the throne 
of Spain and seeking to maintain him there by the 
power of bayonets, Bonaparte divided his army, dis- 
tracted his people, brought down upon himself the 
vengeance of England, of Portugal, and of Spain. 

Napoleon's letters to his wife are at first filled 
with the news of continued successes ; one of them 
will suffice, to show the manner of his correspond- 
ence, at the opening of the year in which she was 
driven from the throne of France. 



JOSEPHINE. 355 

"3d January, 1809, — I have received, my friend, 
thy letters of the 18th and 21st December. I am 
pursuing the English, sword in hand. The weather 
is cold and rigorous, but everything is going well. 
Adieu, my friend. Always thine. A very happy 
new year to my Josephine. " 

" 9th January, — Moustache brings me a letter 
from thee of the 31st. I see, my friend, that thou art 
in a most melancholy state. Do not fear, Austria 
will not declare war against me. If she does, I have 
150,000 men in Germany and as many more on the 
Rhine, and 400,000 Germans at call. Russia will 
not turn against me. The Parisians are crazy, 
credulous. Everything is going on well. I shall 
return to Paris just as soon as I think it neces- 
sary. ... I charge you to be careful what you 
reveal. . . . But adieu, my friend. My health is 
good, and I am ever thine." . . . 

Josephine's fears were soon realized and Bona- 
parte had cause to thank her for her extraordinary 
prevision. For Austria, though repeatedly beaten, 
yet never conquered, profiting by the absence of 
Bonaparte in Spain, took occasion to declare war 
against her powerful enemy. The Emperor's decis- 
ion was not more rapid than his movements, and, 
seeing at once his mistake, he abandoned his Spanish 
operations and returned to Paris with all speed. 

The 23d of January, he was again in the Tuile- 
ries ; two months sufficed him to put in operation 
all the vast enginery of war at his command. 
Austria soon had cause to repent her hasty decision, 



356 JOSEJPHINE. 

and to lament her mistake. On the 13th of April 
Bonaparte left Paris, taking the Empress with him 
as far as Strasburg, where she had sojourned during 
the Russian campaign, four years previously. 

Four days later Bonaparte had established his 
headquarters, and two days after commenced that 
short campaign which resulted in making him mas- 
ter, for the second time, of the capital of Austria. 

Some twenty-five letters, written by Napoleon to 
his wife, during this campaign, are in existence ; 
but it is only necessary to quote from a few of them, 
to show their character. They become shorter and 
more concise, the farther negotiations proceed with 
the Court of Austria, and have their value as indica- 
tions of the writer's feelings at the time. 

In his letter of the 6th of May, alluding to the 
report that he had been wounded in the heel, he 
writes : . . . " My friend, I have received thy letter. 
The ball touched me but did not wound, only just 
grazing the tendon Achilles. My health is good ; 
thou art wrong to disquiet thyself. My affairs are 
in good shape. Ever thine." 

It is well known that Bonaparte was several times 
wounded (as shown by the scars discovered on his 
body after his death, at St. Helena), but that he 
bravely concealed his wounds, fearing the effect 
they would have upon his soldiers, who believed him 
invulnerable. 

The capture of Vienna he announced in a few 
lines, as though it were a foregone conclusion and 
a matter of course. But the arrival of Prince 



JOSEPHINE. 357 

Eugene, with his victorious army, which he knew 
would be welcome to the mother-heart of Josephine, 
he described more at length, and bestowed praise 
upon his adopted son that he was aware would be 
gratefully received. This letter he sent by special 
courier, and enclosed a proclamation which he 
requested her to have translated into French and 
German, announcing his victories, and have printed 
for general distribution. 

On the loss of his gallant marshal, the intrepid 
Lannes, he wrote briefly : . . . " The death of the 
Duke of Montebello, who was killed this morning, 
d'stresses me deeply. If thou canst console his poor 
wife, please do so. Truly thine." 

Of the victory which Eugene, profiting by the 
teachings of his adopted father and beloved mentor, 
had gained over the second Austrian army. Napo- 
leon wrote to Josephine : . . . 

" I have sent thee a courier to announce that, on 
the 14th, the anniversary of the battle of Marengo, 
Eugene won a great victory over the Archduke 
John, taking 3,000 prisoners, several cannon, and 
four flags." 

Three weeks later the campaign was ended by the 
decisive battle of Wagram, and which Bonaparte 
announced to his wife in the same laconic manner 
as at Austerlitz, Jena, and Friedland : . . . 

'' Yth July, flve o'clock in the morning, — I have 
sent you a courier with the good news of 
the victories of Ebersdorf and Wagram, which 
latter I gained yesterday. The enemy's army is in 



358 JOSEPHINE. 

disorderly flight. Eugene is well. . . . My losses 
are considerable, but the victory is decisive and com- 
plete. We have taken more than one hundred can- 
non, twelve flags, and many prisoners. . . . Adieu, 
my friend ; I embrace thee. Many loving messages 
for Hortense." 

On the 13th July, an armistice was concluded, and 
negotiations entered upon for a peace between the 
two empires that should be more permanent than 
any that had preceded. 

While the negotiations for peace were proceed- 
ing, and which consumed several months. Napoleon 
resided at Vienna and at Schonbrunn, and Jose- 
phine, having returned from Strasburg, retired to 
Malmaison, where she gave herself up to the same 
gloomy forebodings that had agitated her four 
years before. 

It was not solely an amour that gave rise to sad 
reflections now, but a concatenation of events that 
all pointed to but one solution of the problem of 
succession to the throne in case of accident to its 
present possessor. 

The recent narrow escape from death of her royal 
spouse ; a more recent attempt at assassination ; the 
necessity for some apparent heir to the throne being 
in evidence : — even the people were seriously debat- 
ing the probable consequences, should Napoleon fall 
by a bullet from the enemy or beneath the poignard 
of the assassin. Wild rumors were in the air, and 
both Bonaparte and Josephine were cognizant of 
them and their import. 



JOSEPHINE. 359 

Napoleon coolly discussed the probabilities in every 
event, and calculated the possible advantages result- 
ing from alliance with one of the royal families. If 
he should be deprived of life, at this time, it was 
certain that his dynasty would perish with him ; not 
one of his brothers could assume and maintain the 
royal state ; there was no rallying-point for the peo- 
ple of France, — in short, no direct and legitimate 
heir to the throne. 

It was at this time, while negotiating the peace of 
Schonbrunn, that the idea of divorce became fixed 
and Napoleon decided upon a matrimonial alliance, 
either with the royal house of Austria, or Eussia, 
both of which had been practically offered him. The 
treaty of peace was signed on the 14:th October ; on 
the 21st the Emperor addressed a note of three lines 
to Josephine: . . . "My friend, — I leave in an 
hour. I shall arrive at Fontainebleau on the 26th or 
27th ; meet me there with the ladies of the Court." 

The peace was signed, divorce was decided upon ; 
Napoleon returned to France, with the plaudits of 
his people ringing in his ears ; but with the deter- 
mination to deprive himself of the music of a voice 
sweeter to him than the acclamations of the multi- 
tude. 



360 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

DIVOECE. 

Events did not march more rapidly than Napoleon 
himself. He so hastened his journey, that he arrived 
at Fontainebleau on the 26th of October, early in 
the morning, before Josephine and her ladies had 
even departed from Saint Cloud. 

A messenger was despatched to apprise her of his 
arrival, and she hastened to meet him ; but his anger 
was such that at first he avoided her, and for a time 
was cold and indifferent. ' ' And so you are come, 
madame," he curtly said. "It is time. I was 
about setting out for Saint Cloud." 

Josephine burst into tears, when Napoleon's heart 
relented, and he begged her to forget his rudeness. 
They were friends again, but between them was a 
constraint that had never been before. 

A cloud sat upon his brow ; she frequently lapsed 
into tears ; they avoided that intimate companion- 
ship which had hitherto been such solace and recrea- 
tion. 

He had returned triumphant but gloomy, for he 
had come to the unalterable determination to sever 
the tie that united them, even though well aware 



JOSEPHINE. 361 

that it would break this fond heart which had been 
devoted to him during the past thirteen years. 

It was his destiny — thus he reasoned — which com- 
pelled this separation from one who loved him as a 
man, and not as sovereign ; who had shared with 
him the glory of his achievements, who had been 
the crowning charm of his life. 

It was not new to Josej)hine : this apparition of 
divorce ; during several years of her marriage it had 
shadowed her existence, had presented itself before 
her in every variety of form. 

It had been urged upon Bonaparte by his family, 
whose jealousy of Josephine was intense and ill- 
concealed, their antipathy extending even to her 
children. 

It was urged by them on the return from Egypt, 
at the beginning of the Consulate for life, preced- 
ing the Coronation, and after the peace of Tilsit ; 
but Napoleon had nobly protected his wife. 

Since, however, the death of the Prince- royal of 
Holland, or for the two years past, he had enter- 
tained the suggestion that previously had been 
indignantly repelled. 

The advances of Russia at Erfurth had made a 
vivid impression upon his amour-propre, and may 
have given him the assurance that no alliance was 
too lofty for him to aspire to. 

His narrow escape from death, in the last cam- 
paign, must have brought vividly before him the 
futility of all his plans, the unstability of his care- 
fully-builded throne, if he should die without a legit- 



362 JOSEPHINE. 

imate successor ; the matrimonial prospects, which 
it is more than probable were suggested at the sign- 
ing of the peace of Vienna ; and the certitude that 
he could never expect an heir from his present union, 
which another more fortunate might give him ; —all 
these circumstances united to impress upon him the 
necessity for divorce, as due to his high destiny and 
the repose of France. 

But the Emperor feared to excite anew the grief 
and fears of Josephine, and he dreaded to meet her 
reproaches and her tears. He could not bear to see 
her suffer, he was pained at sight of her tears ; this 
man, before whom all Europe was even then in hum- 
ble obeisance shrank from communicating to her 
the decision at which he had arrived.* 

* It was while Napoleon was at Fontainebleau, before his return 
to Paris, that Josephine for the first time heard the divorce men- 
tioned, ; the idea had occurred to the Emperor' s mind while he was 
at Schonbrunn. . . . Napoleon often reflected on the best mode of 
making this communication to the Empress ; still, he was reluctant to 
speak to her. . . . He was apprehensive of the consequences of her 
susceptibility of feeling ; his heart was never proof against the shed- 
ding of tears. He thought, however, that a favorable opportunity of- 
fered for breaking the subject previously to his quitting Fontaine- 
bleau. He hinted at it in a few words which he had addressed to the 
Empress, but he did not explain himself until the arrival of the Vice- 
roy, whom he had ordered to join him. . . . He was the first person 
who spoke openly to his mother and obtained her consent for that bit- 
ter sacrifice. He acted on that occasion like a kind son and a man 
grateful to his benefactor and devoted to his service, by sparing him 
the necessity of unpleasant explanations towards a partner whose re- 
moval was a sacrifice as painful to him as it was affecting. The Em- 
peror, having arranged whatever related to the future condition of 
the Empress, upon whom he made a liberal settlement, urged the 



JOSEPHINE. 363 

But this suspense could not long endure. One 
day, the last of November, after a gloomy repast, 
at which neither spoke, the sword so long suspended 
above her head fell, and severed the tie that for so 
many years had held these two together. 

Instinctively apprehending what was to follow, 
Josephine followed her husband into his cabinet. 
His look was stern, and her heart quailed before it. 
But approaching her, he said, with accents of ten- 
derness, ' ' Josephine, my dear Josephine, you know 
how much I have loved you ; that to you, to you 
alone, I owe the little happiness I have experienced 
in this world. But, Josephine, my destiny is more 
powerful than my will ; my dearest affections must 
yield to the interests of Prance " 

"Say no more," faltered the victim of his am- 
bition; ''say no more; I have expected this; I 



moment of the dissolution of tlie marriage, no doubt because he felt 
grieved at the condition of the Empress herself, who dined every day 
and passed her evenings in the presence of persons who were witness- 
ing her descent from tlie throne. There existed between liim and the 
Empress Josephine no other bond than a civil act, according to the 
custom which prevailed at the time of his marriage. Now, the law 
had foreseen the dissolution of such marriage contracts. A particular 
day having therefore been fixed upon, the Emperor brought together 
into his apartments those persons whose ministry was required in 
this case : . . . The Emperor then declared in a loud voice his in- 
tention of annulling the marriage he had contracted with Josephine, 
who was present ; the Empress also made the same declaration, which 
was interrupted by her repeated sobs. The Prince Arch-Chancellor 
having caused the article of the law to be read, he applied it to the 
case before him, and declared the marriage to be dissolved."— Mem. 
of the Due de Rovigo. ■ 



864 JOSEPHINE. 

understand, I can appreciate your motives, — but, 
the stroke is not the less mortal. " 

She fell to the floor insensible, and the Emperor, 
alarmed, called the chamberlain of the palace, and 
the court physician, who bore the Empress to her 
apartments. Three hours she lay unconscious, and 
during that time no anxiety was greater than Bona- 
aparte's, who doubtless felt as keenly as she the fatal 
thrust that had divided their hitherto united lives. 

Hortense was then at Fontainebleau, and gave 
to her mother the consolation which she so much 
needed ; one loving heart, at least, was hers to rest 
upon. 

Eecovered from this first shock, Josephine was 
no longer the gay and joyous companion of the 
Emperor, animating by her presence the gloomiest 
of his melancholy days. She was subdued, grief- 
stricken, passing whole nights in tears ; yet, in the 
company of her ladies and at the fetes that suc- 
ceeded in honor of Napoleon's victories, she conducted 
herself with dignity and apparent cheerfulness. 

Hortense was with her when the blow descended ; 
Eugene was summoned from Italy to give the coup- 
de-grace. 

Both Hortense and Eugene hastened to assure 
their stepfather that they would thenceforth re- 
nounce all claim upon his bounty ; that they could 
not leave their mother's side ; that wherever she 
should be sent, thither they would accompany her. 
Napoleon, who loved these children as his own, and 
earnestly desired their well-being, dissuaded them 



JOSEPHINE. 365 

from any step that should lead to separation from 
his fortunes, and patiently explained to them his 
reasons, the imperative necessity, for divorce. 

Josephine also added her supplications to her hus- 
band's, and her children acquiesced in her desires. 

Once more Josephine was to be submitted to the 
torture of acquiescence in an act that deprived her 
of imperial favors. 

The day for the official promulgation of the act of 
divorce was fixed for the 15th of December, on 
which there were assembled, at the Tuileries, the 
Empress, Madame-mere, the king and queen of 
Holland, the king and queen of Westphalia, the 
king and queen of Naples, the Prince viceroy, the 
Princess Pauline, the arch-chancellor, Cambeceres, 
and the secretary of state. 

Josephine was pale and trembling, her children 
calm, but only suppressing their emotions for their 
mother's sake. 

Napoleon, standing, his hand holding that of the 
Empress — those hands so soon to be separated for- 
ever — addressed the arch-chancellor, in a voice full 
of dignity and tenderness, but betraying at times 
the emotion he would have concealed. , . . 

After alluding to the circumstances calling to- 
gether such a distinguished assemblage of witnesses, 
Napoleon said : 

' ' The political interests of my monarchy, and the 
desires of my people, which have constantly guided 
all my actions, require that I should leave behind 
me, to heirs of my love for my people, the throne 



366 JOSEPHINE. 

upon which Providence has placed me. Meanwhile, 
for many years, I have given up all hopes of chil- 
dren by my marriage with my well-beloved spouse, 
the Empress Josephine ; and this it is which induces 
me to sacrifice the sweetest affections of my heart, 
to consider only the good of my subjects, and desire 
a dissolution of our marriage. 

' ' Arrived now at the age of forty years, I may rea- 
sonably indulge a hope of living long enough to 
rear and guide the children with which it may 
please Providence to bless me. God knows what 
such a resolution has cost my heart ; but there is no 
sacrifice, however great, which I would not make, if 
it be proved to be for the best interests of Prance. 

''It is my duty to add that, far from having any 
cause for complaint ; on the contrary, I have noth- 
ing but praise for the tenderness and devoted 
attachment of my well-beloved wife. She has en- 
riched thirteen years of my life ; their remembrance 
will be forever engraved on my heart. She was 
crowned by my hand ; she shall always retain the 
rank and title of Empress ; but, above all, it is my 
desire that she shall never doubt my feelings to- 
wards her, nor regard me as other than her best and 
dearest friend." 

He cast upon his companion a look of tender re- 
gard, and when he made mention of those happy 
years they had passed together (too late he acknowl- 
edged they were the happiest of his life), his eyes 
filled with tears and his voice failed him, as he 
closed his remarks. 



JOSEPHINE. 367 

Josephine's sweet voice was then heard in re- 
sponse, in accents that hngered in Napoleon's mem- 
ory long years after, when an exile on the rock of 
Saint Helena, giving her assent to the act that 
deprived her of the highest honor earth could be- 
stow. 

She declared her willingness to submit to the will 
of her spouse and the desires of the people, and to 
give this proof of her attachment and devotion in 
the greatest sacrifice that could be asked. Her 
voice failed, and then, after in vain attempting to 
continue, she handed the paper to the secretary of 
state, who read it for her, in a voice trembling with 
emotion. ..." I owe everything to his bounty ; it 
is his hand that crowned me, that raised me to the 
height of the throne. ... I respond to all the senti- 
ments of the Emperor, in consenting to the dis- 
solution of a marriage which henceforth is an 
obstacle to the happiness of France, by depriving 
it of the blessing of being one day governed by 
the descendants of that great man, so evidently 
raised up by Providence to efface the evils of a ter- 
rible revolution and restore the altar, the throne, 
and social order. But the dissolution of my mar- 
riage will in no respect change the sentiments of my 
heart ; the Emperor will ever find in me his best 
and truest friend. I know how much this act, com- 
manded by policy and such exalted interests, has 
cost his heart ; but we both glory in the sacrifices 
which we make to the good of our country." 

Later in the day the decree of the senate, which 



368 JOSEPHIKB. 

proclaimed the act of marriage dissolved, was signed 
by the Emperor and Empress, and then Josephine 
was taken to her apartments, faint with emotion, 
there to weep in secret over her unhappy fate. 

The Emj)eror returned to his cabinet, silent and 
sad, where he for a long time sat in gloomy reflec- 
tion, his head supported upon his hand. 

The next morning, while the carriages were in 
waiting to convey the Emperer to the Petit Trianon, 
whither he had decided to retreat for rest and reflec- 
tion, he seized his hat and said to his secretary, 
Meneval, " Come with me." 

lie led the way by the secret passage from his 
cabinet to the apartment of the Empress. He 
opened the door ; she was there, alone, and in tears. 
At sight of the Emperor she arose and cast herself 
upon his breast, sobbing as if her heart would break. 
For a few minutes the unhappy couple stood there, 
locked in loving embrace, then Bonaparte summoned 
her attendants, delivered her into their charge, 
hastily withdrew, entered his carriage, and was 
whirled away. 

Hortense and Eugene soon after entered the 
apartment, and finally succeeded in calming the agi- 
tation of the Empress, who was obliged to prepare 
for the final farewells. 

For the last time, many of those who had known 
her at the height of her power, came to bid her 
adieu, and to solicit the honor of sharing her court 
at Malmaison. She was affected to tears at this 
demonstration of affection, but attended to her 



JOSEPHINE. 369 

duties with dignity, and in the afternoon, accom- 
panied by her son and her daughter, set out for 
Malmaison, bidding an eternal farewell to the 
scenes of all her glory at the Tuileries. 

For the crown she had lost she felt not the slight- 
est regret ; for the spouse who had bestowed it her 
heart was breaking. 

" But if he finds happiness thereby," she said, " I 
shall never regret the sacrifice I have made," 

The concluding act of this great sacrifice was per- 
formed in the senate, where high tribute was paid 
to the Empress. Before the senators assembled, 
Eugene declared the sentiments that had actuated 
him and his sister in giving their adhesion to the 
cause of Napoleon. "My mother, my sister, and 
myself," he said, " owe everything to the Emperor. 
He has been to us always a loving father ; he will 
find in us devoted children and submissive subjects. 
. . . When my mother was crowned, in the eyes of 
the nation, and at the hands of her august spouse, 
she tacitly contracted the obligation to sacrifice her 
own affections and interests to the interests of 
France. She has complied, with courage, with 
nobility, and with dignity. . . . She will view, with 
feelings of pride and satisfaction, whatever may 
redound to the happiness of her country and the 
Emperor." 

In an eloquent harangue, the Count Lacepede de- 
clared that posterity would ever associate the name 
of Josephine with the immortal deeds of Napoleon. 

The senate decreed : 
24 



370 JOSEPHINE. 

I. The marriage contract between the Emperor 
Napoleon and the Empress Josephine is dissolved. 

II. The Empress Josephine shall retain the title 
and rank of Empress-Queen Crowned. 

III. Her allowance is fixed at an annual payment 
of two million francs, out of the public treasury. 

IV. Whatever provisions the Emperor shall make 
in favor of the Empress Josephine, out of the funds 
of the civil list, shall be obligatory upon his succes- 
sors. 

The decree of the senate was transmitted to the 
Emperor and Empress by special messenger, and 
also two addresses. In the address to the Empress, 
the senators reaffirmed their appreciation of the 
sacrifice Josephine had made for France, declaring 
that history would keep it in eternal remembrance. 
The people of France had for years revered her 
many virtues ; they would ever admire the sublime 
devotion of this last act of hers, which had sealed 
their love and their respect. 

This was the last public communication received by 
Josephine from the State ; but it was a convincing 
testimonial of the regard in which she was held by 
all ; a flattering tribute to her character ; the cap- 
stone to the monument raised by her exemplary life. 

To the gift of the senate, was added by Napoleon 
the extensive property of Malmaison, the chateau of 
Navarre, and another million from the civil list ; 
she was also privileged to reside, when in Paris, at 
the Palace of the Elysee ; thus had the Emperor ful- 
filled his promise to bestow upon her the magnifi- 



JOSEPHINE. 371 

cence that pertained to the high rank to which he 
had raised her. 

The royal pair had separated, but not yet could 
they remain apart ; on the very next morning after 
the removal to Malmaison, Bonaparte sought out his 
wife, still weeping over her irreparable loss. To- 
gether they walked the alleys of Malmaison, together 
talked of the pleasures now forever past ; they were 
still friends ; no more than that : no longer man 
and wife, — as Napoleon delicately conveyed to her, 
at meeting and parting, when he took her hand, 
pressed it, but without embracing her. 

On his return to Trianon, that same evening, he 
addressed her a letter for her encouragement, full 
of the tenderness of the happiest days of their 
union. ''My friend," it began, "I found thee to- 
day weaker than thou shouldst have been. Thou 
shouldst show more courage , . . and above all care 
for thy health, which is so precious to me. . . . 
Thou canst not doubt my constant and sincere 
friendship. . . . Adieu, my friend ; sleep well ; 
dream of me. Napoleon." 

Every day during the month that followed the 
divorce, the Empress received a letter or a visit 
from Bonaparte. The courtiers, seeing her still in 
receipt of imperial favors, and taking their cue from 
their royal master, thronged the courts of Malmai- 
son as of yore. Some, however, came out of regard 
for their former queen and beloved mistress ; but 
these were comparative^ few, and Josephine was 
rendered rather sad than happy by their presence. 



372 JOSEPHINE. 

The Queen Hortense has published some twenty- 
three letters, written by Napoleon to Josephine dur- 
ing the three months intervening between the 
divorce and his second marriage. They are all of 
like tender and affectionate nature, and betray the 
real feelings of the Emperor, clearly showing that 
the divorce was, as he claimed, demanded by policy, 
and not by sentiment. 

" I have received thy letter, my friend. Savary 
tells me that he found thee in tears ; that is bad ; 
it makes me sad. , , . Sleep well. ... I was very 
lonely (he wrote after returning to the Tuileries), 
this great palace is so vast and vacant ; I am sad, 
not seeing thee." 

The visits to Malmaison were intermitted, and 
Josephine sadly complained. He wrote : "I wish 
very much to go to Malmaison, but be calm ; the 
page told me this morning that thou wert in tears. 
I dine all alone. Adieu, my friend ; do not ever 
doubt my feelings towards thee." 

But, notwithstanding all these amicable assur- 
ances, the report was spread abroad that it was 
Napoleon's intention to banish his wife far from 
France. This came to the ears of Josephine, and 
she demanded of Bonaparte that she be allowed to 
reside a while in the Elysee ; considering that his 
consent would be equivalent to a refutation of the 
charges. This consent he not only freely gave, but 
sent thither such articles as she had left at the 
Tuileries, including the magnificent toilet-service 
of gold, presented to her by the city of Paris ; and 



JOSEPHINE. S7S 

taking the liveliest interest in fitting up the rooms 
for her occupation. Her fears were quieted, she 
saw much more of her friend, during the last of 
February and the first half of March, and in conse- 
quence became more tranquil and resigned. 

Possessed of her own means for ascertaining the 
movements of the Court, Josephine soon became 
aware of the negotiations which were in progress 
for the hand of Marie Louise. Whether it was 
that she did not wish to witness the arrival of her 
successor to the throne and heart of Napoleon, or 
that it was in obedience to a request of the Emperor, 
Josephine applied for leave to retire to her country- 
seat, the castle of Navarre. This was granted, and 
to that beautiful but isolated spot she made her 
retreat, with the members of her little court, a few 
days before the marriage of Bonaparte with the 
Austrian Archduchess. 

With the second marriage of Napoleon terminates 
the life of Josephine as connected with the great 
man who had showered such favors upon the com- 
panion of his glorious reign. 

After thirteen years of intimate companionship, 
after having testified in a thousand ways to the 
regard and love he had felt for the woman of his 
first choice. Napoleon had wedded another : young, 
sweet, naive, who was no more in love with him 
than was Josephine during the campaign of Italy. 

Napoleon's absorption during the imperial honey- 
moon, his tender regard for his bride, all the details 
of this event, so distressing to Josephine, were 



874 JOSEPHINE. 

promptly reported at Navarre, where they were 
commented upon and doubtless exaggerated, to the 
wounding of her sensitive heart. 

She had courageously renounced her place by his 
side upon the throne, she had abandoned forever 
her claims upon him as her spouse ; but she was 
wounded afresh at the thought of forgetfulness on 
his part. Her regard for him was unchanged, she 
had accei)ted his marriage as but a proof of his 
integrity of intention ; she had schooled herself to 
reconcile it with the scheme for securing an heir to 
the throne. But she had not renounced all claim 
to his friendship, and when the days passed without 
an answer to the letter she had written, a few days 
before leaving Malmaison, she became alarmed. 

Arrived at Navarre and finding the chateau 
scarcely habitable, she had written to Napoleon for 
means wherewith to make the indispensable repairs ; 
in default, for permission to return to Malmaison. 
No reply being made, as the Emperor was then en- 
grossed in this new and absorbing passion for Marie 
Louise, Josephine's fears grew in proportion to the 
continued silence, and she augured from it a pros- 
pective exile, not only from Paris, but from her 
beloved France, as well. She pressed her son to 
obtain audience of the Emperor, and ascertain if 
she might return to Malmaison, regarding his reply 
as the touchstone of his intentions respecting her 
exile. His reply, according to her all she desired, 
set her fears at rest, and assuaged her grief. 

This negotiation led to the passage of the three 



JOSEPHINE. 375 

letters following, between Josephine and Napoleon, 
which are the last we shall submit of their long-con- 
tinued correspondence ; and which present more 
clearly than anything else their situation and respect- 
ive sentiments during this first year of their divorce. 
The first written by Josephine in acknowledg- 
ment of his favor, and laboriously prepared, doubt- 
less after consultation with the ladies of her court, 
affects the official form, which until then had never 
been used by either, but which she may have con- 
sidered as demanded by her novel position and the 
silence of the Emperor. 

"Xavaeke, 19th April, 1810. 

" Sire. ... I have received by the hand of my son 
the assurance that Your Majesty consents to my 
return to Malmaison, and grants the advances nec- 
essary to complete the repairs of the chateau of Na- 
varre. This double favor, sire, dissipates in great part 
the uneasiness and fears which the silence of Your 
Majesty had inspired. I had feared I was entirely 
banished from your remembrance ; I now see that 
I am not, and am to-day less unhappy — even hap- 
pier than I had thought it possible to be. 

"I shall leave at the end of the month for Malmai- 
son, since Your Majesty has no objection. . . . My 
intention is to reside there a very short time ; then 
to go away for the waters. But, while I am at 
Malmaison, Your Majesty may be assured that I 
shall live as if I were a thousand leagues distant 
from Paris. ... 

"I shall not cease to pray for Your Majesty's 
happiness. Josephine." 



376 JOSEPHINE. 

The Emperor's reply. . . . 

" CoMPiEGNE, 21st April, 1810. 

" My Friend .: I have received the letter of the nine- 
teenth ; permit me to say it is in very bad style. I 
am always the same ; my likes never change. I do 
not know what Eugene may have said to thee, but 
I did not write, because thou shouldst have known 
that I would approve whatever would be agree- 
able to thee. 

" I see with pleasure that thou art going to Mal- 
maison, and that thou art pleased ; as for me I shall 
be happy to receive news from thee and to send thee 
mine. I say no more, only ask that thou wilt com- 
pare this letter with thine, and after that I leave to 
thee to declare which is the most friendly, thine or 
mine. Adieu, my friend ; take the best care of thy- 
self, and try to judge impartially. 

" Napoleon.'' 

With what happiness Josephine received this 
tender epistle may be seen by her response, in which 
her overflowing heart expressed itself. . . . 

" A thousand thousand thanks for not having for- 
gotten me. My son brought me thy letter. With 
what ardor I devoured its contents ! . . . There 
was not a word that did not make me weep ; but 
these tears were tears of joy, and sweet. . . . 

" I shall be in despair, lest my letter of the nine- 
teenth shall have displeased thee. I cannot recall 
exactly rjpiy expressions, but I remember the painful 



JOSEPHINE. 377 

sentiments that dictated it ; my chagrin at not hav- 
ing heard from thee. But I knew the reasons for 
thy silence and I feared to trouble thee with a letter. 
Thine has been a balm for my hurt. Mayest thou 
be happy, and receive all thou meritest ; my whole 
heart wishes it. . . . Adieu, my friend ; I thank 
thee tenderly, as I shall ever love thee. 

"Josephine." 

Comment upon these letters is unnecessary, nay, 
superfluous, for they show the existing relations be- 
tween these two, their mutual affection, the nature 
of the tie that bound them together, and which 
naught but death could separate. 

Josephine returned to Malmaison in the first part 
of May, while the Emperor and his wife were absent 
on a visit to the departments of the north. 

During his journey Napoleon wrote her briefly : . . 
"I desire to see thee very much. If thou art at 
Malmaison at the end of the month, I shall call. . . . 
Do not doubt my regard for thee." 

The Emperor kept his word, but made the visit 
in secret, out of regard for his new wife, who was 
beginning to experience a feeling of jealousy at the 
frequent communications of her husband with his 
discarded spouse. 

In a letter to her daughter, Josephine recounted 
this visit, which was on the twelfth of June. . . . 
' ' I had yesterday a very happy day, for the Emperor 
came to see me. . . . During the time he is here I 
seem to have the courage to withhold my tears, but 



378 JOSEPHINE. 

as soon as he is gone they ivill burst forth, and I am 
very unhappy. 

' ' He was as good and agreeable as usual, and 
I only hope that he saw in my heart all the ten- 
derness and devotion with which it is filled for 
him." 

Josephine soon sought the waters of Aix, where 
she was informed of the abdication of the King of 
Holland, and where her daughter, the Queen, soon 
after joined her, with her two sons. 

During this absence of Josephine from France, 
the Emperor, as though desirous of honoring her 
family through her relatives, consummated the mar- 
riage of the young aide-de-camp, Louis de Tascher, 
with the Princess Amelia, whose father was a mem- 
ber of the Rhine Confederation. This union, which 
became a very happy one, had a sad beginning, in 
the death of the Princess's mother, from injuries 
received at the Austrian Ambassador's ball, in July. 
She survived but a few days, but before her death 
expressed her satisfaction at the ajjproaching mar- 
riage of her daughter with the cousin-german of the 
Empress Josephine. 

But these attentions, and the affection manifested 
by Napoleon for his fomer wife, aroused the jealousy 
of Marie Louise, who, whatever her charms of person 
and character, had not the lofty, self-sacrificing 
disposition and amiable characteristics of Josephine. 

She could not understand the nature of their 
friendship, and doubted the evidence that assumed 
a friendship without love, a strong affection with- 



JOSEPHINE. 379 

out compromising attentions, on the one side or the 
other. 

Notwithstanding the care taken by the Emperor 
to conceal his visits to Malmaison from the knowl- 
edge of the Empress, she became aware of them and 
he was compelled to submit to her reproaches. In 
order to calm her, the Emperor ceased his visits and 
discontinued his correspondence ; then there were 
complaints from the borders of Lake Geneva, where 
the first wife had established herself for the season. 

Soon after, Bourrienne, writing of this period, 
says : "I repaired to Malmaison ; I was ushered into 
the tent drawing-room, where I found Josephine and 
Hortense. When I entered Josephine stretched out 
her hand to me saying, 'Ah, my friend.' These 
words she pronounced with deep emotion, and tears 
prevented her from continuing. . . . Josephine 
confirmed what Duroc had told me respecting the 
two apartments at Fontainebleau ; then, coming to 
the period when Bonaparte had declared to her the 
necessity of a separation, she said : . . . ' On the 
30th of November we were dining together as usual, 
I had not uttered a word during that sad dinner, and 
he had broken silence only to ask one of the serv- 
ants what o'clock it was. As soon as Bonaparte 
had taken his coffee, he dismissed all the attendants, 
and I remained alone with him. I saw in the ex- 
pression of his countenance what was passing in 
his mind, and knew that my hour was come. He 
stepped up to me — he was trembling, and I 
shuddered ; he took my hand, pressed it to his heart, 



380 JOSEPHINE. 

and after gazing at me for a few moments in silence 
he uttered these fatal words : " Josephine, my dear 
Josephine, you know how I have loved you .... 
To you, to you alone, I owe the only moments of 
happiness I have tasted in this world. But, Jose- 
phine, my destiny is not to be controlled by my will. 
My dearest affections must yield to the interests of 
France." 

" ' " Say no more, " I exclaimed, ' ' I understand 
you ; I expected this, but the blow is not the less 
mortal." I could not say another word ; I know not 
what happened after, I seemed to lose my reason ; I 
became insensible, and when I recovered I found my- 
self in my chamber. Bonaparte came to see me in 
the evening ; and, oh, Bourrienne, how can I describe 
to you what I felt at the sight of him ; even the 
interest he evinced for me seemed an additional 
cruelty. . . . Alas ... I had good reason to fear 
ever becoming an Empress. ' 

' ' I knew not what consolation to offer to Josephine ; 
and knowing as I did the natural lightness of her 
character, I should have been surprised to find her 
grief so acute, after the lapse of a year, had I not 
been aware that there are certain chords which, 
when struck, do not speedily cease to vibrate in the 
heart of a woman. Though more than a twelve- 
month had elapsed since the divorce, grief still 
preyed on the heart of Josephine. ' You cannot con- 
ceive, my friend,' she often said to me, ' all the tor- 
ments that I have suffered since that fatal day. I 
cannot imagine how I survived it. And the first 



JOSEPHINE. 381 

time he came to visit me after his marriage — what a 
meeting was that ! . . . How many tears I shed ! 
The days on which he comes are to me days of 
misery, for he spares me not. How cruel to speak 
of his expected heir. Bourrienne, you cannot con- 
ceive how heart-rending all this is to me. Better, far 
better, to be exiled a thousand leagues from hence. 
However, a few friends still remain faithful in my 
changed fortune, and that is now the only thing 
which affords me even temporary consolation.' 

" The truth is, that she was extremely unhappy, 
and the most acceptable consolation her friends 
could offer was to weep with her. Yet, such was 
Josephine's passion for dress, that after having wept 
for a quarter of an hour she would dry her tears to 
give audience to milliners and dressmakers. 

" One day I remember that, taking advantage of 
the momentary serenity occasioned by an ample 
display of sparkling gewgaws, I congratulated her 
upon the happy influence they exercised over her 
spirits when she said : ' My dear friend, I ought, 
indeed, to be indifferent to all this ; but it is a habit.' 
Josephine might have added that it was also an 
occupation, for it would be no exaggeration to say 
that if the time she wasted in tears and at her toilet 
had been subtracted from her short life, its duration 
would have been considerably shortened." 

And the Duchesse d'Abrantes, at Malmaison — 
" Upon this the Empress drew closer to me — she 
was already very near — and, taking both my hands, 
said, in a tone of grief which is still present to my 



382 JOSEPHINE. 

mind after an interval of four-and-twenty years : 
' Madame Junot, I entreat you to tell me all you 
have heard relating to me. I ask it as a special 
favor — you know that they all desire to ruin me, 
my Hortense, and my Eugene.' 

"She spoke with the greatest anxiety: her lips 
trembled, and her hands were damp and cold. ' Ma- 
dame Junot, ' she said, ' remember what I say to you 
this day : remember that this separation will be my 
death, and it is they who will have killed me. . , . 
Yet God is my witness that I love him more than my 
life, and much more than that throne, that crown, 
which he has given me.' The Empress may have 
appeared more beautiful, but never more attractive, 
than at that moment. If Napoleon had seen her 
then, surely he could never have divorced her. Ah, 
in summing up the misfortunes of this fatal year, 
that divorce must be added to render them com- 
plete. 

' ' I went again to Malmaison a few days after- 
wards with my little Josephine, whom her god-mother 
had desired me to bring ; this time, as I was alone 
with her, she did not scruple to open all the sorrows 
of her heart, and she spoke of her grief with an en- 
ergy of truth quite distressing. She regretted all she 
had lost ; but it is justice to say that far above all 
she regretted the Emperor. The attentions of her 
children in those days of suffering were admirable. 

" The letters which I received from my friends in 
Paris naturally made mention of the new Empress. 
The most varied opinions were pronounced upon 



JOSEPHINE. 383 

her ; Cardinal Maury sent me a letter in which he 
said : ' I will not attempt to describe how much the 
Emperor is attached to our charming Empress. 
This time he may be said to be really in love ; more 
truly in love than he ever was with Josephine ; for, 
after all, he never saw her while she was very young. 
She was upward of thirty when they were married. 
But Marie Louise is as young and as blooming as 
spring. You will be enchanted with her when you 
see her ' " 

In 1812, she writes : — '^ I observed that Josephine 
had grown very stout since the time of my de- 
parture for Spain. This change was at once for 
the better and the worse. It imparted a more 
youthful appearance to her face ; but her slender 
and elegant figure, which had been one of 
her principal attractions, had entirely disappeared. 
Still, however, she looked uncommonly well, and 
she wore a dress which became her admirably. 
Her exquisite and judicious taste in these matters 
contributed to make her appear young much 
longer than she otherwise would. . . . The best 
proof that can be adduced of the admirable taste of 
Josephine is the marked absence of elegance dis- 
played by Marie Louise, though both Empresses 
employed the same milliners and dressmakers, and 
Marie Louise had a large sum allotted for the 
expenses of her toilet." 



384 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTER XXVTI. 

NAVARRE AND MALMAISON. 

The Empress could not banish the specter of ex- 
ile, and she wrote her daughter, after she had re- 
turned to Paris, to ascertain the Emperor's inten- 
tions beyond peradventure. Three weeks passed 
without news from Hortense — three months, they 
seemed to Josephine — who wrote to the Queen, from 
Berne : . . . " Not one word from thee during the 
twenty days of our separation. What can be the 
cause of thy silence ? I confess that I am lost in 
conjecture and do not know what to think. ... If I 
do not hear from thee in three days, ... I shall 
return to Malmaison ; there, at least, I shall be in 
France ; and if everybody abandons me I will live 
alone, serene in the consciousness of having sacrificed 
my own happiness for the good of others." 

This letter was needless, for on the following day 
came one from Hortense that put an end to all her 
fears, for it informed her that the Emperor left her 
entirely free to do as she pleased : to remain in 
Switzerland, to go to Italy, or to return to Navarre 
or even to Malmaison. Soon after he wrote her by 
his own hand, confirming all that had been trans- 



JOSEPHINE. 385 

mitted through the Queen. While he advised her 
to make the journey to Italy, as a distraction, and 
to see her son, yet he left her at perfect liberty ; 
counseling her, however, if she wished to return to 
France, to take up her residence at Navarre, in pref- 
erence to Malmaison, Upon the reception of this 
favor, the Empress at once decided to establish her- 
self at Navarre, and in this beautiful chateau she 
resided for nearly a year, not even visiting her be- 
loved Paris during that period. Here she received 
the intelligence of the birth of an heir to the throne, 
(20th March, 1811), in a letter from Napoleon him- 
self. One of her ladies wrote of this event : — 

"We dared not question the Empress, but ob- 
serving our curiosity she had the condescension to 
gratify us with a sight of the letter, which consisted 
of ten or twelve lines, traced on one page, and was, 
as usual, covered with blots. I do not exactly re- 
member the commencement, but the conclusion 
was, word for word, — ' This infant, in concert with 
our Eugene, will constitute our happiness, and that 
of France.' 'Is it possible,' remarked the Empress, 
' for one to be more amiable, or could anything 
be better calculated to soothe whatever might be 
painful in my thoughts at this moment, did I not so 
sincerely love the Emperor. This uniting of my son 
with his own is indeed worthy of him, who when he 
wills, is the most delightful of men. This it is 
which has so much moved me.' 

" She presented the messenger with a diamond 
brooch valued at 5,000 francs, and arranged a 

25 



386 JOSEPHINE. 

splendid fete in honor of the birth of the King of 
Kome." 

After some months at Navarre, Josephine left 
that chateau and established herself at Malmaison, 
where she was surrounded with a brilliant court, 
little differing in its details from that of her rival at 
the Tuileries. This court was that of a veritable sov- 
ereign, yet with less of etiquette than that at the 
palace ; greater liberty in its members and more of 
real pleasure in the great affairs of life. The Em- 
press here abandoned herself to the indulgence of 
her tastes for natural history, botany, and the 
arts. She revived the fortunate days of the First 
Consulate and having at her command three millions 
of revenue (which she never imagined could be 
diminished), she indulged her inclinations for charity 
and benevolence to the full. 

She launched into a course of extravagance that 
soon plunged her anew into debt, and some time 
after drew down upon her a v/ell-merited reproof 
from Napoleon, whose methodical tastes, even in 
the matter of large expenditures, were outraged at 
her recklessness. 

He advised her to conduct her affairs with more 
economy ; to put aside half of the 3,000,000 he allowed 
her, for the future ; she would then have, in ten years, 
a reserve of some 10,000,000, with which she could 
endow her grandchildren, when they married. 

Instead of that, reports constantly reached him 
that she was again in debt. What should he think 
of her : in debt, with three millions of revenue ? 



JOSEPHINE. 887 

The Empress deserved this reproof ; indeed, it is 
wonderful,^ the patience shown towards her f oUies 
by her former spouse. But, although she used to re- 
ceive his scoldings with indifference, at least with 
only a gush of tears, this letter produced such an 
effect upon her that she took to her bed, overcome 
witK chagrin. Information of this having been 
convej^ed to Napoleon, he hastened to send her, by 
a special messenger, a proof of his continued affec- 
tion, in this, the last, letter contained in the pub- 
lished memoirs of Queen Hortense. . 

" Friday, eight o'clock in the morning, 1813. 

'' I send to know the state of thy health, for Hor- 
tense tells me that yesterday thou wert all day in 
bed. I am vexed with thee on account of thy debts ; 
I did not expect thee to spend all thy income ; on 
the contrary, I had thought thou wouldst put aside 
at least a million each year, for thy grandchildren, 
when they married. 

"Nevertheless, do not doubt my friendship for 
thee, and do not be vexed on account of what I 
wrote. Adieu, my friend ; let me know that thou 
art better. They tell me that thou art getting as 
fat as a Normandy farmer's wife. 

"Napoleon." 

As early as the year 1800, we have convincing 
proof of Josephine's senseless extravagance, as shown 
in this excerpt from Bourrienne. . . . 

" Bonaparte said to me : ' Talleyrand has been 



388 josEPHmE. 

speaking to me about the debts of my wife. I have 
the money from Hamburg, — ask her the exact 
amount of her debts ; let her confess all. I wish to 
finish, and not begin again. But do not pay with- 
out showing me the bills of those rascals : they are 
a gang of robbers.' 

" The next morning I saw Josephine. She was at 
first delighted with her husband's intentions ; but 
this feeling did not last long. When I asked her 
for the exact amount of what she owed she entreated 
me not to press it, but content myself with what 
she should confess. 

" She said : ' I can never tell all, it is impossible. 
Do me the service to keep secret what I say to 
you. I owe, I believe, about 1,200,000 francs, but I 
wish to confess to only 600,000 ; I will contract no 
more debts, and will pay the rest, little by little, out 
of my savings. I said to her : ' Madame, I cannot 
deceive you respecting the disposition of the First 
Consul. He believes that you owe a considerable 
sum, and is willing to discharge it. You will, I 
doubt not, have to endure some bitter reproaches 
and a violent scene ; but the scene will be just the 
same for the whole as for a part. ... As I do not 
believe he estimates your debts at so high a sum as 
600,000 francs I can warrant that you will not 
experience more displeasure for acknowledging to 
the whole than to the half ; and by doing so you 
will get rid of them forever.' 

'' ' I can never do it, Bourrienne ; I know him ; I 
can never support his violence.' 



JOSEPHINE. 389 

"At last I was obliged to yield to her earnest solic- 
itation, and promise to mention only the 600,000 
francs to the First Consul. 

" His anger and ill-humor may be imagined. He 
strongly suspected that his wife was dissembling in 
some respect, but he said: 'Well, take 600,000 
francs, but liquidate the debt for that sum, and let 
me hear nothing more on the subject. I authorize 
you to threaten these tradesmen with paying noth- 
ing, if they do not reduce their enormous charges. 
They ought to be taught not to be so ready in giving 
her credit.' Madame Bonaparte gave me all her 
bills. The extent to which the articles had been 
overcharged was inconceivable. I observed in the 
milliner's bill alone thirty-eight new hats, of great 
price, in one month. There was likewise a charge 
of 1, 800 francs for heron plumes, and 800 francs for 
perfumes. I asked Josephine whether she wore out 
two hats in one day ? She objected to this charge, 
which she called a mistake. ... I availed myself 
fully of the First Consul's permission, and spared 
neither reproaches nor menaces. I am ashamed to 
say that the greater part of the tradesmen were 
contented with the half of what they demanded. 
One of them received 35,000 francs for a bill of 
80, 000 ; and he had the impudence to tell me that he 
had made a good profit, nevertheless. Finally I was 
fortunate enough after the most vehement disputes, 
to settle everything for 600,000 francs. Madame 
Bonaparte, however, soon fell into the same excesses ; 
but fortunately money became more plentiful. 



390 JOSEPHINE. 

"This inconceivable mania for spending money 
was almost the sole cause of her unhappiness. Her 
thoughtless profusion occasioned permanent dis- 
order in her household until the period of Bona- 
parte's second marriage, when I am informed she 
became regular in her expenditure." 

Says Bonaparte's second secretary, Meneval, . . . 
" She had a mania for having herself painted, and 
gave her portraits to whoever wished for one. . . . 
The tradesmen never ceased bringing her diamonds, 
jewels, shawls, and trinkets of all kinds ; she bought 
everything, without ever asking the price ; and 
generally forgot what she had purchased. . . . After 
the divorce, her income, large as it was, was insuf- 
ficient ; but the Emperor was more compassionate 
then, and when sending the Comte MoUien to settle 
her affairs gave him strict orders not to make her 
weep. . . . The amiable Josephine had not less ambi- 
tion in small things than her husband had in great. 
She felt pleasure in acquiring, but not in possess- 
ing. . . . My intercourse with Josephine was de- 
lightful, for I never saw a woman who so constantly 
entered society with such an equable disposition, or 
so much of the spirit of kindness, which is the first, 
principle of amiability." 

Again, Bourrienne, in the year 1805. "Bona- 
parte said to me : ' Bourrienne, you must, before I 
proceed to Italy, do me a service. Go to my wife ; 
endeavor once more to make her sensible of her mad 
extravagance. Every day I discover new instances 
of it, and it distresses me. When I speak to her on 



JOSEPHINE. 391 

the subject I am vexed ; I get angry — she weeps. I 
forgive her, I pay her bills, — she makes fair prom- 
ises ; but the same thing occurs over and over 
again. If she had only borne me a child. It is the 
torment of my life not to have had a child. I plainly 
perceive that my power will never be firmly estab- 
lished until I have one. If I die without an heir, 
not one of my brothers is capable of supplying my 
place. All is begun, but nothing is ended. God 
knows what will happen. Go and see Josephine ; 
and, do not forget my injunctions.' ... I ac- 
quainted the Empress with all that the Emperor 
had said to me. I reminded her of the affair of the 
1,200,000 francs, which we had settled with half 
that sum. I even dropped some allusion to the prom- 
ises she had made. 'How can I help it,' said she. 
' Is it my fault ? ' Josephine uttered these words in 
a tone of sincerity which was at once affecting and 
ludicrous. . . . ' All sorts of beautiful things are 
brought to me ; they are praised up ; I buy them — I 
am not asked for the money — and all of a sudden, 
when I have no money, they come upon me with 
demands for payment. This reaches Napoleon's 
ears and he gets angry. When I have money, Bour- 
rienne, you know how I employ it. I give it princi- 
pally to the unfortunate, and to the poor emigrants. 
But I will try to be more economical in the future. 
Tell him so if you see him again. But is it not my 
duty to bestow as much in charity as I can ? ' . . . " 
It was in vain that her errors of extravagance 
were pointed out ; Josephine never reformed in this 



392 JOSEPHINE. 

respect, and to the last was a spendthrift of the hard- 
earned money given her by the people of France. 
She entirely changed the aspect of the chateau of 
Navarre, and was continually expending large sums 
in the embellishment of Malmaison. She had a 
model sheep- farm and introduced rare varieties of 
merinos ; a dairy, in charge of Swiss, whom she 
had brought with her, who lived in a pretty chalet 
and were clad in their national costume. The gal- 
lery, the green-house, the botanic garden, the men- 
agerie : all these received her unwearied attention, 
and consumed her millions. She was in almost 
daily consultation with M. Lenoir, on art ; Redoute, 
the flower-painter ; Isabey, her designer ; and M. 
Aime Bonpland, the great botanist, celebrated for 
his voyages in companj^ with Humboldt.* Malmai- 
son did not lack for company and distinguished 
guests ; among them Cambaceres, as well as the 
courtiers of the Tuileries ; for, since the birth of 
the king of Rome, Marie Louise had lost her jealous 
fears, and Napoleon frequently inquired of his 
friends as to news from Josephine. Quick to take 
this hint, the obsequious courtiers thronged the 

* Malmaison : Fontaine, 1800 : " Madame Bonaparte is much dis- 
tressed at our making some straight paths ; she wants everything 
done in the English fashion. . . . Our heresy in regard to the present 
fashion of gardens has much injured us in her estimation. ... To 
speak about order and regularity in a garden was sheer blasphemy. . . . 
She is ordering some new decorations, and wants us to give our at- 
tention to the gardens, the waters, the hot-houses, in short, to every- 
thing which can make this place more agreeable ; for she regards it 
as her own private property." 



JOSEPHINE. 393 

courts of Malmaison, and swelled the lists of visitors. 

But there was one room rarely exposed to the 
gaze of the vulgar and frivolous : that last occupied 
by Bonaparte when there. Everything remained j ust 
as he had left it : A volume of history, with leaf 
turned down and a pen beside it ; a map of the world, 
upon which he used to trace his marches across the 
enemy's country ; his camp-bed, his arms, his ap- 
parel hung upon the wall ; all in fact that could re- 
mind the forsaken wife of him who had been so 
much to her, and whose loss she so bitterly deplored. 

It is well known that Napoleon often visited 
Josephine in her retirement at Malmaison ; of one 
of these visits she says : " He threw himself with 
transports into my arms ; it seemed impossible to 
cease gazing upon me, and his look was that of the 
most tender affection. ' My dear Josephine, I have 
always loved you ; I love you still. ' ' I endeavored 
to efface you from my heart, ' said I, ' and you again 
present yourself. All my efforts are useless ; to love 
you, and to die, — that is my fate.' " 

Madame de Remusat says of Josephine at this 
time, that she never opened a book, she never took 
up a pen, and never touched a needle ; and yet, she 
never seemed in the least bored. This is very evi- 
dently a malicious slander ; for we have seen that 
Josephine often used the pen, and freely wrote to 
her family ; her reading was done by the ladies, her 
lectrices, paid for that purpose. 

Malmaison itself is a monument to the taste and 
genius of Josephine, who made it the beautiful re- 



394 JOSEPHINE. 

treat that it was, France is indebted to her for many 
new plants, for many ideas in landscape and floral 
effects, introduced at this very place, Malmaison. 

After the death of Josephine the estate passed 
through several hands, finally becoming the prop- 
erty of the Spanish Queen, Christina, who resided 
here some seventeen years, and who kept the build- 
ings in repair and preserved the place somewhat as 
it was in the time of its original owner. In 186T, 
Napoleon III. secured possession of Malmaison and, 
with the co-operation of Eugenie, refurnished the 
rooms with articles that had belonged to Josephine, 
his grandmother. During the exposition of that 
year many visitors came here to pay their tribute of 
affection to Josephine. But, three years later, dur- 
ing the Prussian invasion, the barbarous soldiers 
committed many- atrocities, defaced the walls and 
furniture, destroyed paintings, and left the once- 
beautiful Malmaison in ruin and neglect. 

To-day, though dismantled and forlorn, Malmai- 
son is still in evidence : one may stroll through its 
deserted chambers, be told the spot where Josephine 
breathed her last ; view the dining-room where she 
so often graced the hospitable board, and be shown 
the place where occurred the last parting between 
Hortense and Napoleon. 

Next to her birthplace, where her happiest years 
were passed, the lover of Josephine will hold Mal- 
maison, where Josephine found rest and recreation, 
where she imprinted her image upon its walls and 
gardens ; where she sorrowed out her declining years. 



JOSEPHINE. 395 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

ELBA AND FONTAINEBLEAU. 

Josephine had, it is true, accepted her fate, but 
she lived in the remembrance of happier days, and 
ever cherished the objects of her tenderness and her 
regrets. She desired to see the King of Rome, and 
at last, to gratify her, Napoleon arranged an inter- 
view at Bagatelle in the Bois de Bologne. At sight 
of him she could not restrain her tears, and embraced 
him with all the ardor of a mother long denied ac- 
cess to her offspring. "Ah, my dear child," she 
murmured, while raining kisses upon his face, 
" thou v/ilt some time know, perhaps, all thou hast 
cost me." 

The Emperor hastened to end this affecting scene, 
which was a trial to his patience, and took the little 
king away. This was their last interview ; he 
soon departed on the Russian campaign ; already 
were in motion the events that preceded his last 
fling at fate, that ended in the final catastrophe. 

We will not recount the horrors of the Russian 
campaign ; nor the terrible retreat, which began at 
the ruins of burning Moscow, and finally ended be- 
fore the walls of Paris, soon to be in the possession 
of the enemy. This account belongs to the history 



396 JOSEPHINE. 

of Napoleon ; but incidentally Josephine is involved 
in the final overthrow, — in the disasters that over- 
took her country, which crushed the man to whom 
she was united till death, and in the revolution that 
hurled him from the supreme power ; for these 
hastened the close of her own life. 

We know the honorable part taken by her son, 
the ever-faithful Eugene, in the last retreat : that 
he bravely performed his duty, and in the face of 
overwhelming obstacles, extricated the remnant of 
his army and brought it safe to Italy ; that he re- 
covered, and first took the field, at Bonaparte's call 
to arms ; that he won an important victory over the 
Austrians, and was held by Napoleon worthy to 
succeed him as his heir. 

One of the last letters written by Josephine was 
to her son, bidding him hasten to rejoin Napoleon. 

Bonaparte, in the month of February, 1814, seeing 
France invested on every side, at first resolved to 
call to his aid Eugene and his army. He wrote to 
this effect to Josephine, who at once sent to her son 
a patriotic appeal for his assistance : . . . 

Malmaison, 9th Feburary, 1814. 

" Do not lose an instant, my dear Eugene, what- 
ever may be the obstacles, to comply with the 
Emperor's orders. He has written me on this 
subject. . . . France above all, France has need of 
all her children. . . . Come, then, my dear son, 
hasten, never could thy zeal so well serve the 
Emperor as now. Every moment is precious. . . . 



JOSEPHrPTE. 397 

'' Adieu, my dear Eugene, I have only time to em- 
brace thee and to repeat : come as quickly as 
possible. 

" Josephine." 

But the repeated successes of both Eugene and 
Bonaparte caused the latter to send a counter-order, 
by the hands of Eugene's aide-de-camp, the Count 
de Tascher, who had come to announce the victory 
of the Mincio. Eugene was directed to defend the 
soil of Italy, foot by foot, to retire, only when com- 
pelled,, beyond the Alps, and to retain his title as 
long as possible to the throne of Italy. 

Bonaparte had proposed at the council of Chatillon 
to renounce the crown of Italy in favor of his 
designated heir, the Prince Eugene Napoleon, and 
to his descendants in perpetuity. 

The struggle again began between the armies of 
all Europe united against the single army of France, 
each day rendered more feeble by its very successes. 

But, notwithstanding the prodigies of valor per- 
formed by the French under the direction of the 
great captain, whose clairvoyant genius recalled the 
best days of the Italian campaign, the allied troops 
continued to advance upon Paris. The 25th of 
March, in fact, the Emperor of Austria announced 
his manifesto, in which he declared to the French 
that the sovereignty of him who had espoused his 
own daughter was inimical to the peace of Europe 
and incompatible with the best interests of France. 

The Empress Josephine had decided not to leave 



398 JOSEPHINE. 

Malmaison until the last moment, for there she was 
in direct communication with Paris, where her 
daughter and many friends resided, and whence she 
could derive the latest intelligence from the Emperor, 
concerning whose movements she manifested the 
liveliest anxiety. 

We have, unfortunately, no letters of this critical 
period that will throw light upon the sentiments of 
Napoleon and Josephine ; their correspondence was 
doubtless intermitted by the pressure of affairs. As 
for Queen Hortense, she was continually passing 
between Paris and Malmaison, carrying comfort 
and cheer to her anxious mother, keeping in touch 
with the court at the Tuileries, gleaning scant news 
from Marie Louise, who had been appointed regent 
during the absence of Bonaparte, and from his 
brother Joseph who was at the head of the govern- 
ment. 

By the last of March the allied army was close 
upon Paris, and the inhabitants, notwithstanding 
their confidence in Bonaparte, were in a tumult. 
Many believed, with Hortense, that the Emperor 
would appear in season to effect their deliverance. 
She herself hastened to the Tuileries to entreat the 
Empress-regent not to leave Paris at the mercy of 
their foes ; but too late ; that very afternoon, at an 
extraordinary council, composed of the regent, the 
brothers of jSTapoleon and the ministers of the 
Empire, it was decided that the defense of the capital 
was impracticable, and that Marie Louise, the young 
King of Rome, and the heads of government, should 



JOSEPHINE. 399 

retire to Blois. This was in conformity to the orders 
of Napoleon, before his departure, who feared for 
the safety of his wife and son, sliould they fall into 
the hands of the enemy. 

As soon as she had been informed of this decision, 
Hortense despatched a courier, at one o'clock in the 
morning, to warn her mother to prepare at once for 
departure for Navarre, where she would be less 
exposed to danger. The next day the enemy entered 
Paris, close upon the departure of the royal house- 
hold, and almost at the same hour that Napoleon 
himself arrived at Fontainebleau. 

Meanwhile, Josephine had acted upon her daugh- 
ter's advice and had gained in safety the retreat of 
Navarre, though only after a fright at the prospect 
of capture by the Cossacks, which must have brought 
to mind her perils during the first campaign in 
Italy. 

She remained several days a prey to the most 
agonizing suspense respecting the fate of her 
daughter, her son, and of Napoleon. 

France was invaded, humiliated ; the enemy was 
in possession of the capital ; more than this she 
knew not ; two days she rested in this cruel state of 
uncertainty. But on the second of April, she was 
rejoiced at the arrival of her daughter and her two 
children, who had twice narrowly escaped capture 
by the enemy, while on the road to Navarre. From 
Hortense she learned that her worst fears were 
realized, as to the capture of Paris ; but from her 
she received no tidings of Napoleon. Three days 



400 JOSEPHINE. 

passed ; all the routes leading from Paris, from 
Fontainebleau, and from Blois, were in possession of 
the allies, and all information intercepted. But at 
last, the fourth night, a courier was announced 
from Fontainebleau. Josephine was apprised of his 
arrival, and her heart leaped with joy at the prospect 
of news from the Emperor. 

''He is alive, then? Tell me!" she demanded 
of the messenger. She threw a shawl over her 
shoulders and admitted him at once into her chamber, 
the tears raining over her face as the courier detailed 
all the sad occurrences of the past few days : of the 
projected abdication, of the decree of banishment to 
Elba. 

"Ah," she sighed; "unhappy Napoleon; exiled 
to Elba ! If it were not for his wife, I should demand 
to go with him." 

She envied Marie Louise the privilege she had of 
sharing his exile ; not doubting her desire to do so, 
and unable to believe in the perfidy of one who had 
borne him an heir, and who later dishonored her 
name and brought reproach upon her royal spouse. 

The grief of Hortense was equally profound ; it 
was not alone a crown she had lost, a high fortune 
cast down ; but she lamented the misfortunes of 
one who had called her daughter, whose regard for 
her had ever been delicate and tender. Hers was a 
most unfortunate position : isolated as she was, 
without a place for retreat ; sharing the odium now 
attached to the name of Bonaparte, without sharing 
the affections of any of the family. Her mother's 




Josephine, by Prud'hon. 



JosEPHiisrE. 401 

position was, if anything, more enviable, for the 
divorce had rendered her free, had detached her from 
the family which was now so hateful to the 
returning Bourbons, and she could still reside in 
France. 

"I have no fortune but my diamonds," she said 
to a lady of her mother's court ; "I will sell them 
and with the proceeds I will go to Martinique, to 
the old plantation belonging to my family, which 
I visited in my youth and where I passed many 
happy days. There I will rear my children and be 
content." 

That she did not accomplish her intention is well 
known ; and of the career of her youngest son,, who 
become the Napoleon III. of later times, history 
has informed us. 

A lady of the court was despatched to Paris for 
intelligence of the Emperor and Eugene ; but for 
several days the forsaken ones at Navarre were in 
ignorance of passing events. On the thirteenth of 
April Josephine was advised of the conclusion of 
the treaty, signed two days previously at Fontaine- 
bleau, in which the Emperor renounced all claim to 
the throne of France and Italy, and adopted Elba 
for his future sovereignty. 

To the last, he had been thoughtful of those whose 

elevation was due to him, who would be affected by 

his downfall, stipulating that all their rights and 

privileges should be preserved, and their pensions 

paid. 

Josephine and her family were especially re- 
26 



402 JOSEPHINE. 

membered, her revenue fixed at a million of francs ; 
her son and daughter secured in a position compat- 
ible to their former station. 

These stipulations show clearly that he still 
regarded her with tenderness ; but he departed from 
Fontainebleau, on the twenty-first of April, without 
one word of farewell for her whose heart was 
slowly breaking from love of him, at the castle of 
Navarre. 

Whilst the Emperor was directing his way to his 
place of exile, the last week in April, Josephine, 
yielding to the solicitations of her friends, returned 
toMalmaison. There she was rejoined by Queen 
Hortense, who had at first intended to offer her 
services to Marie Louise ; but being coldly received, 
had returned to her place of duty by her mother's 
side. She found a distinguished visitor at Malmai- 
son, in the person of the Emperor Alexander, who, 
as soon as he had been aj)prised of Josephine's return, 
had hastened to assure her of his respect, and to 
extend to her and her children his protection and 
sympathy. 

Says the Duchess d'Abrantes : — " After Bona- 
parte's abdication ... I went to Malmaison the 
day after receiving his letter from Fontainebleau. 
. . . My name was no sooner mentioned to the 
Empress than she desired I should be admitted. 
. . . She was still in bed, and stretching out her 
arms as soon as she saw me she burst into tears and 
exclaimed : ' Alas, Madame Junot ! Madame Junot ! ' 
I was deeply affected. I knew how sincerely she 



JOSEPHINE. 403 

was attached to the Emperor ; and at this moment 
every reproach she had to make was cast into the 
shade by the heavy misfortune which oppressed 
him. , . . When I told her of my having received 
a letter from Fontainebleau, she said to me with 
an eagerness she had never before displayed, ' Oh, 
I beseech you, do read me that letter ; read the 
wJiole of it ; I desire to know everything.' The 
contents were very painful to Josephine's heart, as 
many passages related to the King of Eome and to 
Marie Louise. ' What think you of that woman ? ' 
demanded the Empress, looking at me with a re- 
markable expression of countenance. ' I, Madame ? 
What I have always thought, — that such a woman 
should never have crossed the frontiers of France. 
I say so from the bottom of my heart.' 'Indeed,' 
said Josephine, fixing on me her eyes bathed in 
tears, but smiling at the idea that I shared her 
opinion. 'Madame Junot,' said the Empress, at 
length, ' I have a great mind to write to Napoleon. 
Would you know the reason ? I wish he would 
permit my accompanying him to the island of Elba, 
if Marie Louise should keep away. Do you think 
she will follow him ? ' 

" 'Quite the contrary ; she is incapable of doing 
so.' 

" I then observed to her that the Emperor's consent 
that she should go to the island of Elba was more 
than doubtful. She seemed astonished. ' Why 
should he refuse it ? ' ' Because his sisters will 
assuredly go there, as well as Madame Mere. Let 



404 JOSEPHINE. 

your Majesty recollect all you have suffered when 
seated on the throne of France, in the imperial 
palace of the Tuileries, when strong in the title of 
the Emperor's consort. If, when you were sover- 
eign, Madame, the Emperor's sisters could disturb 
your repose, what might they not do at the present 
day?' 

" The Empress fell into a deep meditation, a cir- 
cumstance of rare occurrence. ' I think you are 
right,' she said at last; 'I think you are right.' 
She remained for some time with her head resting 
upon her hand." 

Viewing them in the relation of wife and daughter 
of a vanquished sovereign, the Emperor Alexander 
assured Hortense and Josephine of every attention, 
and with delicate tact endeavored to mitigate the 
unpleasant features of their situation. 

Meanwhile, the Empress was gladdened by the 
arrival of Eugene, from whom she had been a long 
time separated, and of whom she had heard nothing 
for many days. She was now happy and contf^nt, 
in the companionship of both her children, whom 
she entreated not to leave her, unless they would be 
instrumental in shortening her life. They promised 
to remain with her to the last, and her only anxiety 
now was for the Emperor. Eugene had held out 
to the very end, only surrendering his command 
when he could do so with honor, and after stipulat- 
ing for the safety of his officers and soldiers. His 
conduct had won universal approbation, and no one 
thought of hindering his journey to France, for the 



JOSEPHINE, 405 

honorable purpose of comforting his mother and 
sister in their unhappy state. 

The Emperor Alexander went to Malmaison for 
the express purpose of renewing to him the offers of 
assistance he had made to Josephine and Hortense. 
The Duke of Orleans, as the old friend of his father, 
whom Eugene so strongly resembled, was also well 
disposed towards him ; but, as the adopted son of 
Napoleon, he was to share in the downfall of his 
chief. Notwithstanding the active and well-meant 
efforts of Alexander, who would have restored Eu- 
gene to his former position, in accordance with the 
wishes of Napoleon, as expressed in his abdication 
and at Chatillon, the treaty of Fontainebleau was 
disregarded. 

Deprived of the prospect of her revenue, and un- 
der the impression that she was soon to be banished 
from France, yet Josephine forgot her own troubles 
in her anxiety for the fate of her children. To 
secure their welfare, she implored the Emperor of 
Eussia to exert himself in their behalf, as the great- 
est favor he could bestow upon an abandoned wife 
and tender mother. 

Of her children, and of the unhappy fate of him 
who had raised them all to the supremest height, 
and who would have saved them from participation 
in his fall, had it been possible, she spoke unceas- 
ingly. 

On the fifteenth of May, the Empress went to 
pass a few days at the chateau of Saint-Leu, with 
Hortense. The Emperor Alexander also visited 



406 JOSEPHINE. 

there at the same time, and they went to ride in 
the woods of Montmorency. On her return to Mal- 
maison, Josephine felt so fatigued that she retired 
to her apartment, leaving her daughter to entertain 
their guests. 

When she had regained the seclusion of her 
chamber, Josephine threw herself into a reclining 
chair, in a state of painful melancholy. Her reader. 
Mile. Cochelet, had accompanied her, and reports in 
her memoirs the conversation that then ensued. 
After a short silence the Empress said sadly, " Ma- 
demoiselle Cochelet, I cannot throw off this distress- 
ing melancholy which has seized upon me ; I have 
made every effort to conceal it from my children, 
but I only suffer the more. I begin to lose all 
hope. The Emperor of Eussia seems to be filled 
with regard and affection for us, but of what good 
are his promises to my son, my daughter, and her 
children ? 

"Is he not in a position to do something for 
them ? Do you know what will happen when he 
shall have departed ? The Bourbons will not fulfill 
their promises ; I shall see my children at their 
mercy, unhappy ; and I cannot endure this thought. 
... I already suffer enough on account of Napo^ 
leon, now stripped of all his greatness, exiled to a 
distant isle, abandoned by all his friends ; must I 
now see my children fugitives, at the sport of 
evil fortune ? . . . I feel that this doubt will kill 
me." 

The lectrice tried to comfort her by pointing out 



JOSEPHINE. ■ 407 

with what assiduity the Emperor of Russia had at- 
tended upon her and the zeal he had manifested in 
her children's cause ; hut Josephine was not to he 
deceived ; she felt assured of the enmity of the 
Bourbons, and above all of the house of Austria. 



408 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

DEATH OP JOSEPHINE. 

It is true, as Josephine declared, that the Bour- 
bons were indebted to the first wife of Napoleon for 
many and great favors, some of them even for their 
lives ; yet none of them came near her in her honor- 
able exile, or manifested an interest in her fate. 
She was, however, " the only member of the imperial 
family whose titles and honors were preserved ; " a 
guard of honor watched around her retreat, and she 
was surrounded by the most illustrious personages 
of Europe. "A few days after the Emperor Alex- 
ander's visit to Marie Louise," says Bourrienne, 
" he paid his respects to Bonaparte's other wife, 
Josephine. In this breaking up of empires and king- 
doms the unfortunate Josephine, who had suffered 
agonies on account of the husband who had aban- 
doned her, was not forgotten. One of the first 
things the Emperor of Russia did on arriving at 
Paris, was to despatch a guard for the protection of 
Malmaison. . . . The allied sovereigns treated her 
with delicacy and consideration. As soon as Alex- 
ander knew that Josephine had returned to Mal- 
maison he hastened to pay her a visit. It is not pos- 



JOSEPHINE. 409 

sible to be more amiable than he was to her. When, 
in the course of conversation, he spoke of the 
occupation of Paris by the alHed armies, and of the 
position of the Emperor Napoleon, it was always in 
perfectly measured language ; he never forgot for an 
instant that he was speaking to the wife of a van- 
quished enemy. 

'' On her side, the Empress did not conceal the ten- 
der sentiments, the lively affection, she still felt 
for Napoleon. . . . Alexander certainly had some- 
thing elevated and magnanimous in his character, 
which would not permit him to say a single word 
capable of insulting misfortune ; the Empress had 
only one prayer to make to him, and that was for 

her children This visit was soon followed 

by another, from the other allied princes. The King 
of Prussia came frequently, to pay his court to Jo- 
sephine ; he even dined with her several times at 
Malmaison ; but the Emperor Alexander came much 
more frequently. . . . Queen Hortense was always 
with her mother when she received the sovereigns, 
and assisted her in doing the honors of the house. 
The illustrious strangers exceedingly admired Mal- 
maison, which seemed to them a charming residence, 
and were particularly struck with its fine gardens 
and conservatories. , . . 

' ' From this time, however, Josephine's health visi- 
bly declined, and she did not live to see Napoleon's 
return from Elba, She often said to her attendants : 
' I do not know what is the matter with me, but at 
times I have fits of melancholy enough to kill 



410 JOSEPHINE. 

me.' . , . But, on the very brink of the grave, she 
retained all her amiability, all her love of dress, 
and the graces and resources of a drawing-room 
society." 

We cannot overlook two letters of this period, 
attributed to Napoleon and Josephine, and which, if 
genuine, give us a glimpse into the hearts of their 
illustrious writers : The first, from Napoleon. . . . 

" FONTAINEBLEAU, 16th April, 1814. 

" Dear Josephine, — I wrote to you on the eighth 
of this month, but perhaps you have not received my 
letter, as hostilities still continue, and it may have 
been intercepted. At present, communication must 
be re-established. 

' ' I have formed my resolution : I will not repeat 
what I said to you : then I lamented my situation, 
now I congratulate myself thereon. ... I am now 
free from an enormous weight. My fall was great, 
but at least it is useful, as men say. In my retreat I 
shall substitute the pen for the sword. ... I have 
heaped benefits upon millions of wretches. What 
have they done in the end for me ? They have all 
betrayed me. Yes, all. I except from this number 
the good Eugene, so worthy of you and of me. 
Adieu, my dear Josephine ; be resigned, as I am, 
and ever remember him who never forgot, and 
never will forget you. Farewell, Josephine. 

"P. S. — I expect to hear from you at Elba ; I am 
not very well. 

"Napoleon." 



JOSEPHINE. 411 

To which Josephine replied, in this, her last com- 
munication to her exiled friend and former hus- 
band : 

"Sire, — Now only can I calculate the whole ex- 
tent of the misfortune of having beheld my union 
with you dissolved by law ; now indeed do I lament 
being no more than your friend, who can but 
mourn over a misfortune great as it is unex- 
pected. ... I have been on the point of quit- 
ting France to follow your footsteps, and to 
consecrate to you the remainder of an existence 
which you so long embellished, A single motive 
restrained me, and that you may divine. If I learn 
that, contrary to all appearances, I am the only one 
who will fulfill her duty, nothing shall restrain me, 
and I will go to the only place where henceforth 
there can be happiness for me, since I shall be able 
to console you when you are there isolated and un- 
fortunate. 

" Say but the word, and I depart. Adieu, sire ; 
whatever I would add would still be too little ; it is 
no longer by words that my sentiments for you are 
to be proved, — and for actions your consent is nec- 
essary. 

"Josephine." 

Although plunged into the profoundest melan- 
choly, Josephine, in order to reassure her son and 
daughter, assumed a calmness that was foreign to 
her feelings. But she could not conceal from them, 



412 JOSEPHINE. 

from the searching eyes of love, her deep distress 
and increasing grief. A week passed thus ; though 
amiable and apparently cheerful in the company of 
her little court, now so sadly diminished, when alone 
she abandoned herself to tears and sad reflection. 
In truth, she was hurt to the heart ; her grief had 
undermined her health ; the sleepless nights of agony 
had inflamed her blood. She uttered no complaint, 
she even tried to maintain her old air of cheerful 
gayety, but her children and her ladies were op- 
pressed by painful presentiments. 

On Monday, the twenty-third of May, the King 
of Prussia and his two sons came to dine with her, 
and Josephine, though for days she had been visibly 
suffering, received them with her old-time grace, 
and so successfully maintained the character of 
agreeable hostess, that they departed in the belief 
that she was fully recovered. The next day she 
was obliged to receive the Russian Grand Dukes, 
who afterwards went driving with Eugene, while 
Hortense remained at home with her mother. As 
the Empress seemed to be suffering from a slight 
cold, her daughter urged her to retire to her room ; 
but she declined, and went down to dinner. In the 
evening, however, after several attempts to rally 
from the fatigues of the day, she retired to a near 
apartment, leaving to Hortense the honors of hostess 
during the stay of the Eussian princes. The next 
morning, when her reader went to her room for the 
orders of the day, she found the Empress in tears, 
and holding in her hand a paper, which she held 



JOSEPHINE. 413 

out to her, demanding excitedly if her daughter had 
seen it. "If she has not," she said, "then take 
good care she does not see it. Bead this terrible 
article, which some one has written, about her poor, 
dead child. My God ! Is it possible ? Yes, they 
have dared to ravish the dead, to descend even to 
the tomb. It is as though the times of the Revolu- 
tion had returned. Ah me, what infamy ! " 

This anonymous attack upon the honor of her 
cherished child increased her melancholy, and 
plunged her into a stupor of grief. She became 
rapidly worse, and on the morrow, as Hortense 
entered her chamber at an early hour, she found her 
breathing with difficulty. Greatly alarmed, she 
called the court physician, who agreed with her that 
her mother was suffering from more than a common 
cold, and assented to a consultation. This Jose- 
phine opposed, for fear of causing pain to the 
doctor in attendance ; but, in order to allay her 
children's fears, promised to keep her bed for the day. 

Eugene was then suffering from fever, and 
obliged to remain in his room ; but this fact 
Hortense strove to keep from her mother, and made 
every preparation for attending both patients, 
though herself fatigued, 

A relapse occurred on the twenty-seventh, of so 
alarming a nature that Hortense decided to send to 
Paris for assistance, when she was informed of the 
arrival of the first physician of the Emperor Alex- 
ander's household, with inquiries from his royal 
master and the information that he himself was to 



414 JOSEPHINE. 

dine with them at Malmaison, on the morrow. 
Josephine at once returned her thanks and began to 
occupy herself with preparations for entertaining 
her august visitor, whom she proposed to receive in 
person.* At the soHcitation of Hortense, however, 
the Eussian physician was permitted to have an 
interview with her mother, and he did not conceal 
from the daughter that the patient's condition was 
very serious a^d demanded immediate and energetic 
measures. 

A consultation was held, it was declared that the 
Empress was suffering from a dangerous attack of 
quinsy ; but, although, the physicians feared it 
was too late for remedies to be of avail, they con- 
cealed their worst fears from the watchers, and 
awaited in anxiety the result. Queen Hortense 
scarcely left her mother's side, and then only to 
hasten to Eugene, whose fever had increased to the 
point of creating great anxiety in his behalf. The 
Empress, noticing her son's continued absence, was 
finally informed of his illness, and begged her 
daughter to bestow her time upon her brother, or at 
least to seek the rest she so much needed. 

During the night, Josephine sank perceptibly, and 
the Queen decided to dispatch a messenger to Alex- 



* "After fhe divorce, at Malmaison, she (Josephine) had the same 
luxurious tastes, and dressed with as much care, even when she saw 
no one. On the day of her death, she insisted on being dressed in a 
veiy elegant robe de chambre, because she thought that the Emperor 
of Russia might come to see her. . . . She died covered with ribbons 
and pale rose satin." — Mme. de Eemusat. 



JOSEPHINE. 415 

ander, requesting him to postpone his visit ; but 
before the courier could reach Paris, his Majesty 
arrived at Malmaison, several hours in advance of 
the hour appointed, having been anxious to learn of 
the exact condition of the Empress. Hortense in- 
formed him of her fears, and then had him con- 
ducted to her brother's chamber, where he passed 
the day, being rejoined by the Queen at dinner. 
After the ceremony was over she excused herself 
and again hastened to her mother's bedside ; but the 
Emperor remained with Eugene until assured that 
Josephine was resting easily, and took his departure 
late in the afternoon. His presence had been con- 
cealed from Josephine, who, it was feared, would 
have wished to rise to receive him, and thereby 
suffer a relapse. Though oppressed by the fatigue 
of continued watching, Hortense wished to pass the 
night with her mother, who insisted that she should 
retire to her own room to rest. One of the ladies 
in waiting, the Duchess d'Arberg, joined in her en- 
treaties, promising to inform her if she should be 
be needed, and the Queen retired, though at a late 
hour, and only after the assurance that she should 
be notified of the slightest alarming symptom. She 
went to her room, but not to sleep, several times 
rising during the night and seeking the bedside of 
the patient sufferer. Josephine uttered no com- 
plaints and did not appear to suffer, except from an 
increased difficulty of breathing ; but she was wake- 
ful, and her mind seemed to be wandering amid the 
scenes of the recent past. She frequently repeated 



416 JOSEPHINE. 

in a low tone, as if communing with herself : " Bona- 
parte . . . Elha . . . Marie Louise." Alarmed 
at this incoherence, Hortense sought her brother, 
who, somewhat recovered from his fever, accom- 
panied her to the Empres's chamber. Their mother 
was still conscious ; as her children approached the 
bedside her eyes filled with tears, and she endeavored 
to stretch forth her arms to embrace them. But 
those loving arms, so often their refuge in the past, 
which had ever encircled them, protecting them 
from the attacks of hate and malice, were now 
powerless to bestow the last, farewell embrace. It 
was with difficulty Josephine could speak to them, 
and her features had so changed, in the short time 
that had elapsed since they last saw her, that they 
were forced to recognize the near approach of final 
dissolution. Oppressed by her emotions, Hortense 
was obliged to retire from the chamber, while 
Eugene, summoning all his courage, gathered his 
mother tenderly in his arms, pressing her head to 
his breast. There she lay, peacefully, looking the 
love she could not adequately express in words, 
while her son scanned the faces of the physicians, 
to learn if this were, indeed, the last hour of 
Josephine's fitful existence. They could give him 
no hope, and intimated that it were well, if she so 
desired, that she should be provided with the last 
sacraments. The Queen's chaplain was summoned, 
and, leaving him to prepare their mother for the 
viaticum, the son and daughter retired to the 
chapel, where they knelt in prayer. Soon they re- 



JOSEPHINE. 417 

turned to the chamber of death. As they entered, 
Josephine vainly attempted to embrace them, and 
made a futile effort to speak. Her features had 
undergone a mortal change ; it was but too evident 
that her last hour had arrived, and Hortense, over- 
come by this conviction, fainted, and was borne 
from the chamber. Kneeling at his mother's side, 
Eugene drew her within his embrace, where, a few 
minutes later, with a last look of love in her glazing 
eyes, she expired.* 

Imprinting a kiss upon the pallid lips, Eugene 
gently released the inanimate form, and with trem- 
bling steps sought his sister, to inform her of their 
misfortune, and to mingle his tears with hers. The 
household of Malmaison was plunged into mourn- 
ing, and as the sad intelligence spread abroad, the 
people in all places and of all degrees lamented 
their "good Josephine," whose hold upon their 
hearts was strong and deep. 

'^ In company with Mme. d'Arberg," wrote Mile. 
Cochelet, " I remained by the side of her whose life 
had fled, and, thinking to preserve a souvenir of 
the departed, for those she had loved so well, I cut 
off a portion of the beautiful tresses, which enframed 
the face, now so calm, and upon which rested a 
peaceful smile, . . . 

* The (alleged) last words of Josephine were : 

"At least, I shall die regretted ; I have always desired the happi- 
ness of France ; I did all in my power to contribute to it ; and I can 
say with truth, to all of you now present, that the first wife of 
Napoleon never caused a single tear to flow." 
27 



418 JOSEPHINE. 

'' It would be impossible to depict the grief of the 
Prince Eugene, and Queen Hortense, at the loss of 
this adorable mother, whose life had been one long 
devotion to them and her family." 

The body of the Empress was embalmed, enclosed 
in a double casket of lead and mahogany, and 
exposed upon a catafalque in the grand vestibule, 
where it was visited by upwards of twenty thousand 
people. Even gay and frivolous Paris was visibly 
affected by the sad intelligence of Josephine's 
death, where it inflicted a painful impression upon 
all. 

All, sovereigns and foreign princes ; even the 
royal family of France, sent their condolences to the 
children of the late Empress. The Emperor Alex- 
ander, who had intended paying his respects in per- 
son, learning that Eugene could not attend the 
obsequies, on account of his illness, sent one of his 
generals to represent him. 

The last tributes were offered on the second of 
June, in the church of Eueil, which had been 
restored by the care of Josephine, and in which she 
had expressed a wish to be interred. The funeral 
cortege issued from the great gate of Malmaison 
and took the road towards Paris, as far as Eueil. 
The two children of Hortense, one of whom after- 
wards ascended the throne of France as Napoleon 
III., were the chief mourners. The honorary pall- 
bearers were : the Grand Duke of Baden, husband 
of the Princess Stephanie ; the Marquis de Beau- 
harnais, brother-in-law to Josephine ; the Count 



JOSEPHIKE. 419 

Tascher, ex-senator, and the father of the Princess 
of Baden, the Count de Beauharnais. 

Following them, the officials and ladies of the 
imperial household, attaches of Prince Eugene, and 
of Queen Hortense, and many personages of dis- 
tinction from the capital, come to testify their 
respect to one who had won the hearts of all. 

The most affecting testimonial of spontaneous 
affection was manifested by the concourse of com- 
mon people, who came from all parts of the sur- 
rounding country, to look their last upon her who 
had ever opened her heart to their woes and her 
purse to the alleviation of their distresses. 

'' She expired at noon of Sunday, the 26th of May, 
in the fifty-third year of her age. Her body was 
embalmed, and on the sixth day after her death 
deposited in a vault in the church of Rueil, close 
to Malmaison. The funeral ceremonies were mag- 
nificent ; but a better tribute to the memory of 
Josephine was to be found in the tears with which 
her children, her servants, the neighboring poor, and 
all that knew her, followed her to the grave. 

"In 1826 a beautiful monument was erected 
over her remains by Eugene Beauharnais and his 
sister, with this simple inscription : . . . 

"To Josephine. 
" Eugene. Hortense." 



420 JOSEPHINE. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

IN RETROSPECT. 

Josephine had been in her grave at Rueil nearly 
a year, when Bonaparte returned from Elba, where 
he had vainly awaited the arrival of Marie Louise. 
He found Hortense in Paris, and together they 
visited Malmaison. During the absence of Eugene, 
who was detained in Germany, and during the 
period of Napoleon's absence at Elba, Hortense had 
been faithful to the imperial fortunes, although she 
had received some favors from his enemies, the 
Bourbons. 

They alighted at the gate of Malmaison ; as they 
entered the vestibule. Napoleon was greatly moved. 

Taking the arm of his adopted daughter, he walked 
with her in the gardens, through the park, and in 
the conservatory, conversing of her whose works 
greeted them from every side, had been the objects 
of her care. At every turn of walk or alley, at the 
entrance to every shaded pathway, it seemed to these 
mourners that she should appear to them, as she had 
been in life, the animating presence, the soul of life 
and gayety. Filled with oppressive thoughts, they 
entered the dwelling and breakfasted in silence. 



JOSEPHINE. 421 

Then the Emperor slowly traversed the gallery filled 
with the pictures Josephine had so carefully collected 
there ; the many works of art which had been the 
objects of her jealous care. After inspecting them, 
Napoleon manifested his desire to visit the chamber 
in which his wife had died, Hortense was about to 
accompany him, but he signed her to remain, and 
alone pursued his way to this well-remembered 
apartment, which was to him fraught with so many 
tender memories. He remained a long time beside 
the bed in which Josephine had breathed her last, 
lost in reverie, dwelling upon the memory of that 
one who had once lived with him in intimate com- 
panionship, then he descended to rejoin Hortense, a 
prey to emotions which he did not attempt to conceal. 
That night, again, he was at the Tuileries, where, 
says Bourrienne, " even more than at Fontainebleau, 
his mind was flooded by the deep and painful recol- 
lections of the past. A few nights after his return 
hither he sent for M. Horan, one of the physicians 
who had attended Josephine during her last illness. 
' So, Monsieur Horan, you did not leave the 
Empress during her malady ? ' ' No, Sire.' ' What 
was the cause of that malady ? ' '' Uneasiness of 
mind. . . . Grief.' . . . 'What? You believe that ? ' 
(and Napoleon laid a strong emphasis on the word 
believe, looking steadfastly in the doctor's face). 
He then asked, ' Was she long ill ? Did she suffer 
much ? ' ' She was ill a week. Sire, her Majesty 
suffered little bodily pain.' ' Did she see that she 
was dying ? Did she show courage ? ' 'A sign her 



422 JOSEPHINE. 

Majesty made, when she could no longer express 
herself, leaves me no doubt that she felt her end 
approaching, she seemed to contemplate it without 
fear. ' 

'Well, . . . well,' and then Napoleon, much 
affected, drew close to Monsieur Horan, and added : 
' You say that she was in grief, from what did that 
arise ? ' ' From passing events. Sire, from your 
Majesty's position last year. ' ' Ah, she used to speak 
of me, then ? ' ' Very often. ' Here Napoleon drew 
his hand across his eyes, which seemed filled with 
tears. He then went on : . . . ' Good woman. . . . 
Excellent Josephine. . . . She loved me truly, — she 
— did she not ?' . . . Ah, she was a French woman.' 
'Yes, Sire, she loved you, and she would have 
proven it had it not been for dread of displeasing 
you, she had conceived an idea.' . . . 'How? . . . 
What would she have done ? ' 

" She one day said that, as Empress of the French, 
she would drive through Paris, with eight horses to 
her coach, and all her household in gala livery, to 
go and rejoin you at Fontainebleau, and never leave 
you more," 

"Napoleon again betrayed deep emotion, on re- 
covering from which he asked the physician the 
most minute questions about the nature of Jose- 
phine's disease, the friends and attendants who 
were around her at the hour of her death, and the 
conduct of her children." 

Two months later, Bonaparte left Paris for his 
last campaign, which was to result in death, in 



JOSEPHINE. 423 

exile or a crown. He speedily returned, having lost, 
at Waterloo, all he had staked : crown, country, 
wife and son. 

Convinced that there was now no alternative to 
leaving France forever, the Emperor desired to pass 
the few remaining days of his liberty at Malmaison. 
Hortense, his ever-faithful friend in misfortune, 
came to keep him company, almost the sole remain- 
ing companion of his former greatness. Napoleon 
remained five days at Malmaison, vainly attending 
the awakening of the country's dormant patriotism ; 
he was still ready to attempt again resistance to the 
invaders. But the interests of France demanded 
his sacrifice ; not on the field of battle, where he 
would gladly have died, but as an exile, beyond the 
borders of the country he had made so great. 

Five days he lived in suspense, surrounded by the 
evidences of his happier life now past and gone, 
dwelling upon the scenes of those departed days 
when at his side walked a loving companion, whose 
presence was a charm against gloom and melan- 
choly. 

It was most fitting, that Napoleon should return 
to this spot, of all others most intimately associated 
with his happiest moments, to muse upon his van- 
ished greatness, and pass in review the incidents of 
his eventful life. 

His career ended here ; at Malmaison the curtain 
falls before the stage upon which he had performed 
such glorious feats of arms ; Napoleon the warrior, 
the king-maker, the conqueror of states and empires. 



424 JOSEPHINE. 

before whom the world had trembled, all Europe 
prostrated herself, is seen here alone, abandoned by 
all, preparing for flight. At last, it had come to 
this ! On the twenty-ninth of June, 1815, at mid- 
day, bidding farewell to Hortense, and to such of 
his friends as remained. Napoleon departed for 
Rochefort, there hoping to take passage for the 
United States. Disappointed, betrayed, watched by 
liis relentless foe, who guarded with her ships every 
avenue of escape, he surrendered to England ; throw- 
ing himself upon her generosity, — to receive his 
reward at Saint Helena. 

He no longer cherished the delusion, so jealously 
maintained at Elba, that his wife would rejoin him 
in captivity ; but Napoleon was well persuaded that, 
had Josephine been alive, he would not have been 
forsaken thus. 

Three years after the death of Napoleon, at Saint 
Helena, the son of Josephine, Eugene, the faithful 
follower of his adopted father, was laid in the 
grave. Says Bourrienne : 

" The Viceroy of Italy was in Vienna when Napo- 
leon returned from Elba, and fell under the suspicion 
of the allies of having informed the Emperor of 
their intention of removing him from the island. 
He was detained in Bavaria by his father-in-law, 
the King, to whose court he retired, and who, in 
1817, created him Duke of Leuchtenberg and Prince 
of Eichstadt. With the protection of Bavaria, he 
actuallj^ succeeded in wringing from the Bourbons 
some 700,000 francs of the property of his mother. 



JOSEPHINE. 425 

A first attack of apoplexy struck him in 1823, and he 
died from a second in February, 1824, at Munich. 
His descendants have intermarried into the royal 
families of Portugal, Sweden, Brazil, Russia and 
Wiirtemburg.'* 

' ' Josephine's daughter, Hortense, separated from 
her husband, Louis Bonaparte, and created Duchess 
of St, Leu by Louis XVIII., was in Paris, much 
suspected by the Bourbons, but really engaged in a 
lawsuit with her husband about the custody of her 
sons, when Napoleon arrived from Elba. She had 
to go into hiding when the news of the landing 
arrived, but her empty house, left unwatched, be- 
came very useful for receiving the Bonapartists, 
who wished for a place of concealment, — amongst 
them being, of all people, Fouche ! 

" Hortense was met by Napoleon with some 
reproaches for accepting a title from the Bourbons, 
but she did the honors of the Elysee for him ; and 
it is creditable to both of them, that, braving the 
vile slanders about their previous intercourse, she 
was with him to the end ; and that one of the last 
persons to embrace him at Malmaison before he 
started for the coast, was his adopted daughter, the 
child of his discarded wife. 

" Hortense's presence in Paris was thought to be 
too dangerous, by the Prussian governor, and she 
was peremptorily ordered to leave . . . and she had 
to start at the shortest notice on a wandering life 
to Aix, Baden, and Constance, till the generosity of 
the small but brave canton of Thurgau enabled 



426 JOSEPHINE. 

her to get a resting-place at the Chateau of Arenen- 
berg, 

"In 1831 she lost her second son, the eldest then 
surviving, who died from fever in a revolutionary 
attempt in which he and his younger brother, the 
future Napoleon III., were engaged. 

"She was able to visit France incognita, and even 
to see Louis Philippe and his queen ; but her pres- 
ence in the country was soon thought dangerous, 
and she was urged to leave. In 1836 Hortense's 
third and last son, Louis Napoleon, made his at- 
tempt at an emeute at Strasburg and was shipped off 
to America by the Government. She went to France 
to plead for him, and then, worn out by grief and 
and anxiety, returned to Arenenberg, which her 
son, the future Emperor, only succeeded in reach- 
ing in time to see her die, in October, 1837. 

"She was laid with Josephine at Eueil." 

In the month of August, 1831, a sorrowing woman, 
an exile from France, which she was then leav- 
ing, came to and mysteriously entered the little 
church at Rueil. She was accompanied by a young 
man who had come with her to pay their last re- 
spects to the memory of Josephine. The Empress' 
daughter and grandson prostrated themselves at the 
foot of her statue which surmounts the tomb, and 
there remained a long time engaged in prayer. 

" What sorrowful feelings oppressed me," wrote 
Hortense in her Memoirs, " as I entered this sacred 
place, as I knelt before the image of my cherished 
mother ; and the sad thought possessed me that, of 



JOSEPHINE. 427 

all she had loved, I was left alone, with my son, 
isolated from my kindred, and even obliged to fly 
from the place where she herself reposed. The 
quantities of flowers which adorned the monument 
(which my brother and myself had, with so much 
trouble, obtained permission to raise to her memory) 
proved to me that she rested in the midst of friends, 
to whom her memory was still dear ; her daughter 
alone was forgotten. ... 

^' I paused at the portal of Malmaison, prevented 
from entering by the orders of the proprietor. . , . 
But I recalled that here the Emperor had last rested, 
ere he left France forever. It was here that I was 
enabled to minister to him in those sad moments, 
when, abandoned by all, he was plunged into the 
greatest of his misfortunes. Here I saw him,, after 
Waterloo, still full of courage, and forgetting his 
own misfortunes in the greater ones which had over- 
whelmed his country, which he still wished to de- 
fend. But they feared what they called his chains, 
and in the name of liberty they delivered them- 
selves into the hands of their enemies." 

Six years later, in accordance with her last wishes, 
her remains were placed within the same church at 
Rueil, where to-day may be seen the monuments 
inscribed with ''Hortense" and "Josephine": 
names which appeal to all lovers of goodness and 
truth. 

During his long exile on the rock of Saint Helena, 
Bonaparte frequently referred to Josephine, and in 
his Memoirs pays ample tribute to her worth. 



428 JOSEPHINE. 

Although he never gave utterance to any doubt 
respecting his second wife, even if convinced of her 
perfidy, yet he could not but compare her with 
Josephine, to the latter's advantage. "Josephine, 
at least," said he, '' would never have abandoned me. 
I was attached to both my wives ; the one was 
the votary of art and the graces ; the other was all 
innocence and simple nature ; and each had a very 
high degree of merit, . . . The first, at no moment 
of her life, ever assumed a position or attitude that 
was not pleasing or captivating ; it was impossible 
to take her by surprise, or to make her feel the least 
inconvenience. She employed every resource of 
art to heighten natural attractions, but with such 
ingenuity as to render every trace of allurement 
imperceptible. The other, on the contrary, never 
suspected that anything was to be gained by inno- 
cent artifice. 

" The one was always somewhat short of the truth 
of nature ; the other was altogether frank and open, 
and was a stranger to subterfuge. The first never 
asked me for anything, but was always in debt to 
every one ; the second freely asked whenever she 
wanted, which, however, very seldom happened, 
and she never thought of receiving anything without 
immediately paying for it. 

" Both were amiable and gentle, and strongly at- 
tached to me. ... 

" A son by Josephine would have completed my 
happiness, not only in a political point of view, but 
as a source of domestic felicity. As a political result 



JOSEPHINE. 429 

it would have secured to me the possession of the 
throne ; the French people would have been as much 
attached to the son of Josephine as they were to the 
King of Rome ; and I should not have set my foot 
on an abyss covered with a bed of flowers. . . . But 
how vain are all human calculations ! Who can 
pretend to decide on what may lead to happiness or 
unhappiness in this life ? Still, I cannot help believ- 
ing that such a pledge of our union would have 
proved a source of domestic felicity ; it would have 
put an end to the jealousy of Josephine, by which I 
was continually harassed, and which after all was 
the offspring of policy rather than of sentiment. . . 

"Josephine despaired of having a child, and she 
in consequence looked forward with dread to the 
future. She was well aware that no marriage is 
perfect without children ; and at the time of her 
second nuptials there was no longer any probability 
of her becoming a mother. In proportion as her 
fortune advanced her alarm increased." 

Josephine possessed a perfect knowledge of the 
different shades of the Emperor's character, and 
she exhibited the most exquisite tact in turning this 
knowledge to account. "For example," said the 
Emperor, " she never solicited any favor for Eugene, 
or thanked me for any that I conferred on him. 
She never even showed any additional complaisance 
or assiduity at the moment when the greatest 
honors were lavished on him. Her grand aim was 
to prove that this was my affair, not hers, and that 
it tended to my advantage. 



430 JOSEPHINE. 

" She never failed to accompany me on all my 
journeys ; neither fatigue nor privation could deter 
her from following me ; and she employed impor- 
tunity and even artifice to gain her point. ... If 
I stepped into my carriage at midnight, to set out 
on the longest journey, to my surprise I found 
Josephine all ready prepared, though I had no idea 
of her accompanying me. ' But,' I would say to 
her, ' you cannot possibly go, the journey is too long 
and will be too fatiguing for you.' 'Not at all,' 
she would reply. ' Besides, I must set out instantly. ' 
' Well, I am quite ready. ' ' But you must take a 
great deal of luggage. ' ' Oh, no, everything is packed 
up ; ' and I was generally obliged to yield . In a 
word, Josephine rendered her husband happy, and 
constantly proved herself his sincerest friend. At 
all times and on all occasions she manifested the 
most perfect submission and devotedness ; and thus 
I shall never cease to remember her with tenderness 
and gratitude." * 

It has been said that the life of the Empress 
Josephine offers little valuable material for history ; 
but we venture to believe the contrary ; for it can- 
not, certainly, be unprofitable to study the career 

* "Before Austerlitz," wrote Mme. de Eemusat, " the Empress was 
as fully confident as the wife of Bonaparte would naturally be. 
Happy to be allowed to accompany him and escape from the talk of 
Paris, and delighted with the fresh opportunity for display, she 
looked on a campaign as on a journey, and maintained a composure 
which, as it could not, by reason of her position, proceed from indif- 
ference, was a genuine compliment to him whom she firmly believed 
Fortune would not dare to forsake." 



JOSEPHINE. 431 

of one whose life was so eventful, whose character 
and social influence always rose to the level required 
by her high destiny. And again : her life is the 
canvas upon which, in strong relief, we may find 
projected the character of that great genius with 
whom her fortune was so intimately associated. In 
the record of her life we may find that of her 
glorious consort ; but here we discover, not the 
Napoleon known to the world of war, to the courtiers 
and statesmen, but find him dwelling in the inti- 
macy of his family ; a man of heart, of sensibilities, 
of domesticity and loving traits, that bind his 
friends inseparably to him. We find incontestible 
evidence that Napoleon possessed, what has been 
denied him by his enemies, the capacity for love and 
for constant affection. The history of Josephine's 
life, therefore, is necessary to complete that of 
Napoleon : to soften the stern and martial figure 
that shines isolate in his battles ; in fact, to give 
a human aspect to one who has been declared devoid 
of the tenderer traits of humanity.* 

But we should note that the grander figure of 
Bonaparte does not overshadow or efface that of 
his gentler companion ; far from seeming incongru- 
ous, in truth, the image of Josephine completely 
harmonizes with that of the modern Charlemagne. 

His rugged strength is tempered by her elegance, 
his brusqueness by her sweetness, his wit by her 
tact, his passion by her mildness. 

To Josephine belongs the signal honor of main- 

* Aubenas. 



432 JOSEPHHsTE. 

taining herself with credit by the side of this master 
of Europe, when at the resplendent summit of his 
ambitions. She does not shine solely in the reflec- 
tion of his refulgence, but she is held in loving 
remembrance for her own remarkable personality, 
her memory still cherished by a nation which knew 
her only to admire. 

Unlike Napoleon's second wife, Josephine pos- 
sessed, notwithstanding her amiable and complaisant 
nature, a strong and vigorous personality ; she has 
impressed herself upon the life of the times in which 
she dwelt, upon the attention of those who have 
succeeded her. 

Napoleon — Josephine : — these two inseparable 
names recall two types of character which will 
be forever popular : in the one will be admired his 
genius and his grandeur ; in the other her grace and 
goodness ; but impartial history will place above 
these attributes, her devotion and abnegation. 

" Cestmon divorce qui m'a pej-du,^'' said Napoleon, 
when, at Saint Helena, he passed his life in sad 
review before him, and reflected upon the unhappy 
consequences of the alliance with the house of 
Austria. 

What would he have added could he have had the 
gift of prescience and have seen into the future ? 

He had sundered the ties that bound him to 
Josephine, for the ostensible reason that his destiny 
and his country demanded an heir ; but after the 
birth of that heir, he lost the crown which was the 
object of the heritage. 



JOSEPHINE. 433 

At the outset Bonaparte had provided, for the 
safeguard of France and the stability of his dynasty, 
a royal succession. 

In default of an heir on his part the crown was 
to pass to his brother Joseph, or to Louis, or to the 
heir of one of these two brothers. The Emperor 
and his eldest brother dying without male issue, 
the crown was to pass to the King of Holland and 
his descendants. 

Was it not the irony of fate, that the original 
provision for the royal succession should eventually 
be fulfilled, and that a son of Louis and grandson 
of Josephine should occupy the throne, in the person 
of Napoleon III. ? Providence, or Fate, had recti- 
fied the great error of Napoleon's life, by carrying 
out his first intention for the perpetuation of the 

Napoleonic dynasty ! 
28 



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APPENDIX. 



I. 

English account of the capture of Martinique, — 1762. 
From the " Chronological History of the West Indies," by 
Captain Thomas Southey : London, 1827. 

' ' Upon the fifth of January, Rear- Admiral Rodney, with 
eighteen sail of the line, besides frigates, bombs, and trans- 
ports, and eighteen battalions of troops, 13,965 men, under 
the command of Major General Monckton, sailed from 
Barbados. Admiral Rodney detached five sail of the 
line to Fort Royal Bay, and ordered one of the ships to hoist 
a flag similar to his. At the same time, to distract the 
enemy's attention, five frigates were sent off La Trinite, on 
the opposite side of the island ; he anchored himself on the 
8th, in St. Ann's Bay, Martinico. The line-of-battle ships 
silenced the batteries on that part of the coast, in doing 
which the " Reasonable" was lost, on a reef of rocks ; her 
men and stores were saved. The general, however, judg- 
ing this to be an improper place for landing the troops, 
sent two brigades, commanded by Generals Haviland and 
Grant, to the bay of Petit Anse. The troops were landed 
and marched to the heights opposite Pigeon Island. 

" On the 10th, Captain Hervey, in the " Dragon," silenced 
a strong fort in Grand Anse, landed his marines and took 
possession of it, until General Haviland sent Colonel Mel- 
ville, with eight hundred men, to relieve him. General 
Haviland, finding the roads impassable for cannon, sent to 



436 APPENDIX. 

inform General Monckton that the troops had better be 
reimbarked. During the night the brigades were attacked, 
but the assailants were compelled to retreat with loss ; and 
the troops, after blowing up the batteries at St. Ann's, re- 
embarked and proceeded to Fort Eoyal Bay. Various feints 
were ordered at different parts of the island. 

" Early in the morning of the sixteenth, the ships began to 
cannonade the batteries in Cas-des-navire Bay. Having 
silenced them by noon, the troops were landed without loss, 
and General Monckton formed his army on the heights 
above the bay, and as soon as the tents could be landed, en- 
camped there. 

" The general resolved to besiege Fort Eoyal, and to carry 
the height of Garnier and Tortueson, which the enemy 
appeared resolved to defend. The English had to cross a 
ravine to attack, and to defend thena a battery was neces- 
sary. On the 24th, at day-dawn, Brigadier-General Grant, at 
the head of the grenadiers, supported by LordEoUo's brigade, 
attacked the enemy. At the same time, Brigadier Eufane, 
with his brigade, reinforced by the marines, marched to 
attack the redoubts along the shore to the right, one thou- 
sand seamen, in flat-bottomed boats, rowing up as he 
advanced ; and another brigade, under Colonel Scott, went 
to turn the enemy upon their left, which they did ; at the 
same time the grenadiers were driving all before them. By 
nine a.m., Morne Tortueson and all the redoubts and bat- 
teries with which it was defended, were in possession of the 
English. The French retired in confusion to Morne Garnier 
and Fort Eoyal. Colonel Scott, with Walsh's brigade, 
advanced on the left and took an advantageous position 
opposite Morne Garnier ; these were supported by Haviland's 
corps, and the road between was covered by the marines. 

' ' Next day, the English began to erect batteries against the 
citadel of Fort Eoyal, but were greatly annoyed from Morne 
Garnier. At f our'p, m. , on the 27th, the French made a furious 



APPENDIX. 437 

attack on the posts occupied by the hght infantry and Havi- 
land's brigade ; but were repulsed with great loss, and the 
English passed the ravine with the fugitives, seized their 
batteries and took possession of the ground. Walsh's 
brigade and the grenadiers under Grant, marched to their 
assistance when the attack began. By nine p. m., this very 
strong post was completely carried. It commanded the 
citadel, against which their own artillery was turned, the 
next morning. The French regulars had retired into the 
town, but the militia dispersed into the country. On the 
30th, the general ordered Morne Capuchin to be taken, and 
upon it batteries to be erected about four hundred yards 
from the fort. The enemy, seeing the preparations for 
attacking the place, beat the chamade on the evening of the 
3d of February. Next day the governor surrendered the 
place by capitulation ; on the 4th of February the gate of 
the citadel was given up to the English. The garrison, to 
the number of eight hundred, marched out, next morning, 
with honors of war. 

' ' Deputations now arrived from the different quarters of 
the island desiring a capitulation ; but M. de la Touche, the 
governor-general, retired with his forces to St. Pierre, which 
he proposed to defend. . . . Fourteen privateers were found 
in the harbor of Fort Royal. As the troops were embark- 
ing to attack St. Pierre, two deputies from de la Touche 
arrived with proposals for the capitulation of the whole 
island. On the 14th February the terms were settled, on 
the 16th the English took possession of St. Pierre, and all 
the forts, while the governor, with M. Rouille, the lieu- 
tenant governor, and his staff, with some grenadiers, were 
embarked for France in transports. 

" The conquest of this island cost the English about four 
hundred men, including officers, killed and wounded. 

" By the articles of capitulation, all the troops were to be 
sent to France, at his Britannic Majesty's expense. The 



438 APPENDIX. 

request that the ' ' militia and other inhabitants that now 
make part of the said garrison, may retire to their homes, 
with their servants, likewise " was granted ; and under this 
capitulation, M. de Tascher was allowed to leave promptly 
for his plantation. 

' ' The islands of St. Lucia, Tobago, and St. Vincent, were 
taken by the English the same month, and are to-day in 
British possession." 

1763 — " The island of Martinique was infested by ants, to 
such an extent that it was seriously debated whether it 
might not have to be abandoned. These ants were supposed 
to have been brought here in the slave ships from Africa. 
In Martinico they destroyed all the culinary vegetables ; 
the quadrupeds were hardly able to subsist ; the largest 
trees were so infested that even the most voracious birds 
would not light on them. In short the greatest precautions 
were requisite to prevent their attacks on men who were 
afflicted with sores, on women who were confined in child- 
bed, and on children who were unable to assist themselves." 

II. 

Slaves — 1751. "M. Bossu, whose testimony, Mr. Lang 
says, is of great weight, relates that some French planters 
force their slaves to such hard labor that they refuse to 
marry, in order to avoid generating a race of beings to be 
enslaved to such masters, who treat them, when old and 
infirm, worse than their dogs and horses. ... I have seen, 
he adds, a planter, whose name was Chaperon, who forced 
one of his negroes into a heated oven, where the poor wretch 
expired ; and, his jaws being shrivelled up, the barbarous 
owner said : 'I believe the rascal is laughing at me,' and 
took a poker to stir him up." 

The death penalty was applied for most trivial offences. 
In Jamaica (English) in quelling an insurrection of the black 



APPENDIX. 439 

maroons, " the prisoners were found guilty of rebellion, and 
put to death by a variety of torments — some burned, some 
fixed alive upon gibbets. One of these lived eight days and 
eighteen hours, suspended under a vertical sun, without 
any sustenance, or even water. . . . Two of the ringleaders 
were hung up alive in irons, on a gibbet erected in the 
parade of the town of Kingston. Fortune lived seven 
days, but Kingston survived till the ninth. The morning 
before the latter expired he appeared to be convulsed from 
head to foot, and upon being o^Dened after his decease, his 
lungs were found adhering to the back so tightly that it 
required some force to disengage them. They behaved all 
the time with a degree of hardened insolence and brutal 
insensibility." 

Slaves — 1774. A Mr. Jefferys (mentioned in " Southey's 
West Indies,") saw seven slaves executed at one time in 
Tobago ; their right arms were chopped off, and they were 
then dragged to seven stakes and burned to death. One of 
them, named Chubb, stretched his arm out on the block, 
and coolly pulled up his sleeve. He would not be drawn, 
but walked to the stake. One, named Sampson, was hung 
alive in chains, and was seven days dying. Their crimes 
were murder and destroying property. 

The Tritri — From a colonial law enacted 1763. "All per- 
sons who shall place cloth in the rivers for the purpose of tak- 
ing small fish called tritri, shall be subjected to the same 
penalties as are prescribed for the turning the course of rivers 
for larger fish : viz. : flogging for slaves, and the pillory for 
three days ; and of greater punishment in case of repetition. 
Slaves detected in the act of poisoning rivers for the taking 
of fish, to be sentenced to the galleys for life." 

1763 — lOth February — A definitive treaty of peace was 
concluded at Paris, and by article (8) it was declared that 
the king of Great Britain "shall restore to France the 
islands of Guadeloupe, Mariegalante, Desirade, Martinico 



440 APPENDIX. 

and Belleisle ; and the fortresses of those islands shall be re- 
stored in the same condition they were in when they were 
conquered by the British arms," etc. 

III. 

The Great Hurricane :— Southey's "West-Indies." 

' ' 1766. At Martinico, upon the 13th of August, a dreadful 
hurricane began, at ten p. m., with a gale from the north- 
west. At midnight the shock of an earthquake added 
to the horrors of the increased hurricane. At three a. m. , the 
gale abated, and the streets of St. Pierre appeared covered 
with ruins. The roads were blocked by trees torn up by 
the roots ; the rivers had brought down stones of enormous 
size, and the shore was strewn with wrecks and dead 
bodies. At five a. m., a water-spout burst upon Mt. 
Peleus, and overwhelmed the neighboring plains. At six it 
was quite calm and the sea was smooth. 

" Twenty-eight French and seven English vessels were 
wrecked, besides twelve passage canoes. Ninety persons 
perished under the ruins of their own houses, and twice 
that number were wounded in St. Pierre alone. In going 
over the island, we shall find nearly the same calamities, 
and in some places still worse." 

The year 1766 was celebrated for the numerous earth- 
quakes and hurricanes, throughout the West Indies. 

In the present century, probably the most disastrous 
hurricane that visited Martinique was in the year 1891, in 
the month of August. 

The writer of this biography visited the island four 
months after this terrible event, and was a witness to the 
distress and destitution throughout the island. It will 
probably never recover from the blow, and the character 
of the population has been so affected, by the hegira of the 
white inhabitants, as to impress even a casual observer. 



APPENDIX. 441 

The following account of the hurricane of 1891, is from 
the Report of the Hon. A. B. Keevil, U. S. Consul : 

" Early on the morning of the 18th of August the sky 
presented a very leaden appearance, decidedly threatening, 
with occasional gusts of variable winds, mostly from E. N. E. 
The temperature was very oppressive during the entire day. 
The barometer varied only slightly, but was a little higher 
than usual until afternoon, when it commenced to fall, at 
first gradually and then very rapidly. 

" It is stated by fishermen who were in the vicinity of the 
Caraval Rock at ten a. m., that an immense wave, about 100 
feet high passed from the direction of St. Lucia, closely 
followed by another smaller one, although the sea in the 
vicinity was quite calm at the time. 

The storm struck the east side of the island at about six 
p. M., rushing through the ravines with terrible force and 
destroying everything in its path. On the elevated plains 
the ruin was most complete. One very peculiar feature of 
the hurricane was the deafness experienced by every one 
during the storm (possibly the result of the reduced baro- 
metric pressure) . During the cyclone the wind veered from 
E. N. E. to S. S. E., the latter being the most destructive. 
During the storm there were incessant flashes of sheet light- 
ning, unaccompanied by thunder, and immediately after the 
storm there were two distinct shocks of earthquake, at 
intervals of about five seconds. Early in September I 
visited Trinite, and all the way the destruction was most 
complete, the trees and vegetation looking as though there 
had been a forest fire, although without the charred 
appearance. The cane suffered least, and the loss, with 
favorable weather, will not amount to more than one-fifth 
of its value. The factories and distilleries appear to have 
been more completely destroyed than other property. 

" The thermometer ranged from 90 "^ to 100 <^ Fahrenheit 
during the storm. There was a deluge of rain, one account 



442 APPENDIX. 

stating that over four inches fell in a few hours that evening. 
My own residence was unroofed and flooded with water, as 
was the case with nine-tenths of the buildings in St. Pierre, 
and throughout the island ; the loss of life was small in St, 
Pierre, but large in the interior towns, notably in Morne 
Eouge, where eight in one family lost their lives. The total 
loss of life, so far as reliable information can be obtained, 
was 700, and the loss of property was enormous. All the 
fruit, the main reliance of the laboring class, was destroyed, 
and prices of provisions have advanced 300 per cent. Every 
vessel was wrecked or badly damaged, about 50 sail in all. 
The scene the island presents would be difficult to describe, 
and the inhabitants are sorely stricken and demoralized. 
Such a night of terror the imagination can scarcely 
picture." 

1770. Of the Creoles, an English writer observes : — 
"We may see a very fine young woman awkwardly 
dangling her arms with the air of a negro servant, lolling 
almost the whole day upon beds or settees, her head muffled 
up with two or three handkerchiefs, her dress loose and 
without stays. At noon we find her gobbling pepper-pot, 
seated on the floor, with her sable handmaids around her. In 
the afternoon she takes her siesta, as usual, while two or 
three of these damsels refresh her face with the gentle 
breathings of the fan, and a third provokes the drowsy 
powers of Morpheus by delicious scratchings on the sole of 
either foot. When she arouses from sleep her speech is 
whining, languid and childish. . . . When arrived at mature 
age, the consciousness of her ignorance makes her abscond 
from the sight or conversation of every rational creature. 
Her ideas are narrowed to the ordinary subjects that pass 
before her : the business of the plantation, the tittle-tattle 
of the parish, the tricks, superstitions, diversions, and 
profligate discourses of the black servants, equally illiterate 
and unpolished. . . . 



APPENDIX. 443 

" Whilst (he adds) I render all praise to the Creole ladies 
for their many amiable qualities, impartiality forbids me to 
suppress what is highly to their discredit. I mean their 
disdaining to nurse their own offspring. . . . Numberless 
have been the poor little victims to this pernicious 
custom. ..." 

IV. 

1778. December. A most sanguinary contest between 
the French and the English took place in the island of St. 
Lucia ; the cannonading must have been heard at Martin- 
ique .... "The English sailed to the attack from Barba- 
does, and had nearly reduced the forts. The last French 
flag in sight among the hills was not struck, when M. 
d'Estaing, with a large force, hove in sight. Besides his 
original squadron of 12 heavy line-of -battle ships, he was 
accompanied by a numerous fleet of frigates, privateers, and 
transports, with 9,000 troops on board. As the day was 
far advanced, d'Estaing deferred his operations until the 
following morning. . . . The British General, Meadows, was 
in possession of very strong ground ; and his men, though 
only 1,300 in number, were veteran troops, who had 
distinguished themselves in America. . . . The French com- 
mander determined to attack the peninsula by sea and 
land at the same time, and about 5,000 of their troops 
advanced, led by the Count d'Estaing, and the Marquis de 
Bouille, the governor of Martinico. The remainder of the 
troops were kept to watch General Prescott's brigade, and 
to check any attempt that might be made to succor General 
Meadows. . . . On the approach of the columns they were 
enfiladed with great effect, by the batteries on the south of 
the bay. Notwithstanding this, they charged with great 
impetuosity, and were suffered to advance close to the 
entrenchment when the British line fired but once and then 
received the enemy on the point of the bayonet. The French , 



444 APPENDIX. 

with great resolution, suffered extremely before they were 
entirely repulsed. As soon as they could be formed again, 
the attack was renewed ; they were again repulsed ; and 
again, the third time, they returned to the charge. But the 
affair was soon decided : they were totally broken, and 
retired in the utmost disorder, leaving their dead and 
wounded on the field, 400 killed and 1,100 wounded, a 
number considerably superior to the enemy they had attached. 

M. d'Estaing having rendered himself accountable for the 
wounded as prisoners of war, he was allowed to have them, 
and to bury the dead. He remained for ten days afterwards, 
upon the island, without making any further attempt by 
sea or by land. On the 28th, he embarked his troops, and 
on the day following abandoned the island. Before he was 
out of sight, the Chevalier de Micoud and the principal in- 
habitants offered to capitulate, and very favorable terms 
were granted them. The commandant and garrison were 
sent to Martinique as prisoners of war to be exchanged, 
without their arms, and on parole. . . . 

Soon after Count d'Estaing had been repulsed from St. 
Lucia, Admiral Byron arrived in the West Indies, with 
such reinforcements as gave the English fleet the superiority, 
and which determined the commander to attempt the 
blockade of Fort Royal, where the French ships had 
rendezvoused. 

But as a large English convoy was then ready to sail for 
England, Admiral Byron sailed part way with it, with his 
fleet ; the result being the capture of St. Vincent and Gra- 
nada, by the French under' D'Estaing. . . . 

It was now considered impossible to oppose M. d'Estaing, 
and a general panic spread through all the British islands. 
The French admiral, however, contented himself with re- 
turning the visits he had formerly received at Martinico, by 
parading for a whole day in sight of St. Christopher's. He 
afterwards waited to see the French homeward-bound 



APPENDIX. 445 

West-India convoy clear of danger, and then proceeded, 
with about 22 sail-of-the-line and 10 frigates, to the coast of 
North America." 

This was doubtless the fleet in which Josephine sailed for 
France in 1779, and after this attention unwittingly be- 
stowed upon the future Empress of the French, the gallant 
admiral sailed to the assistance of the Americans, 

1780 — Rodney's engagement with the French Admiral 
Guichen, off Fort Royal. . . . Sir G. B. Rodney's letter to 
the Admiralty. . . . 

"Sandwich, Fokt Eoyal Bay, MAETmico, April 26, 1780. 

" Since acquainting their lordships of my arrival at Bar- 
badoes and Saint Lucia, and taking upon me the command 
of his Majesty's ships in that station, the enemy, who had 
paraded for several days before St. Lucia, with 25 ships of 
the line, and 8 frigates full of troops, and were in hopes 
of surprising the island, were disappointed in their views 
by the good disposition of the troops by General Vaughan, 
and of the ships by Rear- Admiral Parker, They retired 
into Fort Royal Bay, a few hours before my arrival at 
Gros-Ilet Bay, on the 27th of March. 

"As soon as the fleet could be possibly got ready, I de- 
termined to return their visit, and offer them battle ; and 
accordingly, on the 2d of April, proceeded with the whole 
fleet off Fort Royal Bay, where for two days I offered the 
enemy battle ; the fleet being near enough to count their' 
guns, and at times within random-shot of some of their forts. 
M. de Guichen, notwithstanding his superior numbers, 
chose to remain in port. ... In this situation both fleets 
remained till the 15th inst., when the enemy, with their 
whole force, put to sea in the middle of the night ; immedi- 
ate notice of which being given me, I followed them ; and 
having looked into Fort Royal Bay, and the road of St. 
Pierre, on the 16th we got sight of them, about eight leagues to 
the leeward of Pearl Rock. A general chase to the N. W. 



446 APPENDIX. 

followed, and at five in the evening we plainly discovered 
that they consisted of 23 sail-of-the-line, one 50 gun-ship, 
3 frigates, a lugger and a cutter. , . . When night came 
I found the fleet in line-of -battle ahead, and ordered the 
" Venus " and " Greyhound " to keep between his Majesty's 
and the enemy's fleet, to watch their motions, which was ad- 
mirably well done by that good and veteran officer, Captain 
Ferguson. The maneuvers of the enemy during the night 
indicated a wish to avoid battle ; but I was determined they 
should not, and therefore counteracted all their motions. . . . 
' ' At eleven, next morning, I made the signal to prepare for 
battle, and at eleven-fifty the signal for every ship to bear 
down and steer for her opposite in the enemy's line, agree- 
ably to the 21st article of the additional fighting instruc- 
tions. Five minutes later I made the signal for battle ; a 
few minutes after, the signal that it was my intention to 
engage close, and of course the Admiral's ship to be the 
example. A few minutes before one p. m. , one of the head- 
most ships began the action ; at one, the " Sandwich," in the 
center, after having received several fires from the enemy, 
began to engage. I repeated the signal for close action. The 
action in the center continued till four, when M. Guichen, 
in the ' ' Couronne, " in which they had mounted ninety guns, 
the "Triumphant" and the "Fendant," after engaging the 
" Sandwich " for an hour and a half , bore away. ... At the 
conclusion of the battle, the enemy may be said to be com- 
pletely beaten ; but such was the distance of the van from 
the rear, and the crippled condition of several ships, partic- 
ularly of the " Sandwich," which for twenty-four hours was 
with difficulty kept above water, that it was impossible to 
pursue them that night without the greatest disadvan- 
tage. ... To prevent the risk of another action they took 
shelter under Guadeloupe. ... As I found it was in vain 
to follow them, with his Majesty's fleet in the condition they 
were in, and every motion of the enemy indicating their 



APPENDIX. 447 

intention of getting into Fort-Royal Bay, Martinico, where 
alone they could repair their shattered fleet, I thought the 
only chance of bringing them to action again was to be off 
Fort Royal before them, where the fleet under my command 
now is, in daily expectation of their arrival. . . . 

' ' I cannot conclude without acquainting their lordships 
that the French admiral, who appeared to be a brave and 
gallant officer, had the honor to he nobly supported during 
the whole action. " G. B. Rodney." 

In this action 120 men were killed and 353 wounded 
on board the English fleet. Admiral Rodney's action was 
indecisive, as much from the plan of attack ordered, as he 
says, by the 21st article of the additional fighting instruc- 
tions, as from any other reason. The improved plan of 
attack, which Nelson adopted at Trafalgar, was not then 
used. . . . 

This battle had an important bearing upon operations in 
America, it would seem, for " M. de Guichen's fleet was so 
disabled by its service in the West Indies, that instead of 
proceeding to North America, as was intended, he made 
the best of his way with a convoy to Cadiz, to the great 
disappointment of General Washington." 

Admiral Rodney, being aware of the enemy's designs 
against New York, as soon as he had received certain infor- 
mation of de Guichen's departure, himself sailed immediately 
with eleven sail-of-the-line and four frigates, to New York, 
and thus, in all probability saved his fleet from being 
disabled by the hurricane which did such tremendous 
damage among the islands. 

V. 

1775. " The sympathy of the West Indian colonists with 
the revolutionary movement in America, is well illustrated 
by the petition of the Assembly of Jamaica, to his Majesty 



448 APPENDIX. 

in favor of the Americans. After professing the greatest 
loyalty to the mother country, they declare that the most 
dreadful calamities to their island, and the inevitable 
destruction of the small sugar colonies, must follow the 
present unnatural contest with the Americans. They 
denied that their ancestors, the settlers or conquerors of 
the colonies, could receive any rights or privileges from 
their fellow-subjects in England, at the time of their 
immigration ; the peers could not communicate their 
privileges, and the people had no rights but those of 
which the former were equally possessed ; but the Crown, 
whose prerogatives were totally independent of both for 
the gi'eat purposes of colonization, communicated to all the 
colonies, though in different degrees, a liberal share of its 
own royal powers of government. These powers, as well 
as their original rights and privileges, had been confirmed 
to them, by every means which could be devised for 
affording security to mankind : charters, proclamations, 
prescription, compact, protection, and obedience. From 
these and other premises, the petitioners declare that the 
colonists are not the subjects of the people of England, and 
insist that they have their own rights of legislation ; they 
deplore, and behold with amazement, a plan almost carried 
into execution, for reducing the colonies into an abject 
state of slavery ; and they demand and claim from the 
sovereign, as the guarantee of their just rights, that no law 
shall be forced upon them injurious to their rights, as 
colonists or Englishmen ; and that, as the common parent 
of his people, his Majesty would become a mediator between 
his European and American subjects. 

' ' The West Indian planters, in a petition to the House of 
Commons, stated that British property then in the West 
Indies amounted to upwards of $150,000,000 ; that a further 
property of many millions was employed in the commerce 
created by the said islands ; and that the whole produce 



APPENDIX. 449 

ultimately centered in Great Britain, They showed that the' 
sugar plantations were necessarily dependent upon external 
support, and that the profits arising from the island in a 
great measure depended on a free intercourse with North 
America, from whence they were furnished with the 
necessaries for the maintenance of their plantations." 

This feeling of sympathy was universal throughout the 
West Indies, the trade of which was extensive with the 
American colonies. 

An instance of the manner in which England took 
reprisal for an alleged violation of the laws of neutrality, is 
given in the history of the island of St. Eustatius, belonging 
to the Dutch. In 1777, Sir Joseph Yorke, the English 
ambassador at the Hague, delivered a memorial to the 
States-General, in which he declared that the King, his 
master, had borne with unexampled patience the irregular 
conduct of the subjects of their High-Mightinesses, in their 
colony of St. Eustatia, which was carrying on an illicit 
trade with America. He stated that the governor of St. 
Eustatia, M. Van Graaf, had permitted the seizure of an 
English vessel by an American privateer, within cannon- 
shot of the island ; and that he had returned, from the 
fortress of his government, the salute of a rebel flag. . . . 

(This is said on good authority, to have been the first 
salute paid the American flag in a foreign port.) 

Therefore, in his Majesty's name, and by his express 
order, he demanded from their High-Mightinesses a formal 
disavowal of the salute by Fort Orange, at St. Eustatia, to 
the rebel ship, and the immediate recall of the governor. 

The States answered by a counter memorial, complaining 
of the menacing tone of the English court, and disavowing, 
in the most express manner, any act or mark of honor, 
which may have been given by their oflficers to any vessels 
belonging to the colonies of America, so far as it might 
have implied a recognition of American independence. 
29 



450 APPENDIX. 

The English ministry said they were satisfied with this, 
yet, the English manifesto against Holland, dated December 
20th, 1780, contained the following assertion : ... "In 
the West Indies, particularly at St. Eustatius, every 
protection and assistance has been given to our rebellious 
subjects. Their privateers are openly received into the 
Dutch harbors, allowed to refit there, supplied with arms 
and ammunition, their crews recruited, their prizes bought 
in and sold ; and all this in violation of as clear and solemn 
stipulation as can be made. This conduct, so inconsistent 
with all good faith, so repugnant to the wisest part of the 
Dutch nation, is chiefly to be ascribed to the prevalence 
of the leading merchants of Amsterdam, whose secret 
correspondence with our rebellious subject was suspected 
long before it was made known by the fortunate discovery 
of a treaty with them, signed in September, 1778." . . . 

The ninth of August, preceding, an English squadron had 
seized some American vessels under the fort of St. Martin's, 
and threatened to destroy the town if the Dutch made any 
resistance. The States-General protested solemnly against 
this violation of their territory, and desired full satis- 
faction. . . . 

The next link in this chain of events, was forged by Sir 
George Rodney, who returned from New York with his 
squadron, the latter part of the year 1780. This rapacious 
sea-dog had long had his eye upon the rich island of St. 
Eustatius, and in February, 1781, he and General Vaughan 
appeared before it, with a summons to the governor to 
surrender. M. de Graaf , the governor, was then ignorant 
of the rupture between England and Holland, and at first 
could not believe that the oflQcer who carried the summons 
was serious ; but he answered, that being incapable of 
making any defense, against such a force, he must of 
necessity sui'render it ; only recommending the inhabitants 
to the known and usual clemency of British commanders. 



APPENDIX. 451 

The value of the plunder amounted to above $15,000,000, 
which Eodney confiscated to the crown. This was exclusive 
of the shipping then in port, some 250 sail, many richly 
laden, a Dutch 38-gun frigate, and five smaller vessels of 
war. All the magazines wei'e bursting with stores, and 
even the beach covered with tobacco and sugar. 

It was claimed by Rodney, in his defense for attacking a 
defenseless island before the government was aware of the 
beginning of hostilities, that it was a nest of smugglers and 
privateers, and that the American war would have long 
since been terminated if the rebels had not received 
assistance from this same island of St. Eustatius. General 
Vaughan wrote, on the 7th of February, ' ' We took 
possession of at least 3,000,000 pounds sterling of money. , . . 
We have continued the Dutch flag, which answers extremely 
well, as there have been no less than 17 ships come into the 
port since it was captured." 

" Except for warlike stores, St. Eustatius became one of 
the greatest auctions that was ever opened in the universe. 
Invitation was given and protection afforded to purchasers 
of all nations, and of all sorts. Never was a better market 
for buyers." 

But the inhabitants were entirely ruined. The island 
has never recovered from this base attack ; to-day its 
ruins testify to the complete devastation at the hands of 
Rodney and Vaughan. 

In this manner had England wreaked her revenge upon 
another nation for its alleged part in the defense of the 
American colonies. 

Defeated in America, her fleets resorted to the West 
Indies, where they vented the spleen of their commanders 
first upon the Dutch and then the French. 

At this time the Count de Grasse was expected in the 
West-Indies, with a large fleet, and in April the British 
squadron under Sir Samuel Hood fell in with the French, 



452 APPENDIX. 

off Martinique. But the French Admiral avoided an engage- 
ment and preserved his forces for the capture of Tobago, 
which soon followed. 

The ever-alert governor-general of the French Antilles, 
the Marquis de Bouille, learning that St. Eustatius was 
feebly garrisoned by its British conquerors, hastily invaded 
and captured it, without the loss of a man.* The French 
restored to the Dutch governor his own private property, 
and confiscated some 2,000,000 francs, said to have been 
appropriated by Admiral Rodney and General Vaughan. 
Saba and St. Bartholomew also fell to the French, and 
later, St. Christopher's, the activity and energy of Bouille 
and De Grasse proving more than the English could suc- 
cessfully combat. 

The reprehensible conduct of Rodney and Vaughan were 
brought to the notice of the British Parliament, and made 
a subject of official inquiry. Mr. Burke moved that their 

* Bouille, Francois Claude Amour, Marquis de, French general, 
born Nov. 19, 1739. "Distinguished himself in the Seven Years' War, 
was appointed governor of Guadeloupe in 1768, and at the beginning of 
the American war of independence was governor-general of the French 
West Indies. He not only preserved them to his country, but took 
several others from the English, fighting with constant and desperate 
valor. At the same time he displayed such magnanimity that, on visit- 
ing England, at the conclusion of peace, he was received with admi- 
ration. In the first years of the revolution he was in command of the 
eastern military division of France, and ably contended with great 
difficulties arising from the rebellious disposition of the popu- 
lation and the mutinous spirit of the troops. When Louis 
XVI. projected his flight from France, he consulted Bouille, who 
entered into the plan and made all the necessary preparations ; but 
which were rendered futile by the arrest of the king at Varennes 
(June 21, 1791). Bouille fled from France, and went afterwards to 
Russia, later to England, where he wrote his Memoires sur la Revo- 
lution FrarK^aise ; London, 1797 ; first published in French, 1801. He 
died Nov. 14th, 1800." 



APPENDIX. 453 

actions were dishonest ; but his motion was rejected, by a 
vote of 163 89. 

The fleets of the French and Enghsh admirals chased 
each other to and fro across the Atlantic, now in the West 
Indies, now on the coast of North America. In June, the 
Marquis de Bouille and Count de Grasse united in an ex- 
pedition to Tobago, which island they captured with little 
loss, while Rodney's fleet was at Barbados, within twenty- 
four hours' sail. The Count afterwards sailed for America 
and his participation in the affairs at Yorktown is a matter 
of history universally known. The French contributed to 
that memorable investment by which Cornwallis was forced 
to surrender, and the British arms suffered permanent de- 
feat on American soil, 37 ships and 7,000 men. The last 
of November he arrived in the West-Indies, and it was in 
anticipation of this event that Rear-Admiral Hood left 
Sandy-Hook, on the 11th November, arriving at Barbados 
the 5th of December, with 17 sail of the line. 

1782. — In January, the Marquis de Bouille, landed at St. 
Christopher's, with 8,000 men, supported by de Grasse with 
29 sail of the line. After the French troops had effected a 
landing, the Count was attacked by Sir Samuel Hood, and 
a desperate naval battle ensued, in which the advantage 
remained with the French. Sir Samuel withdrew his fleet 
to Barbados, and the French effected the conquest of the 
island. The near islands of Nevis and Montserrat shared 
in the downfall of St. Christopher's, and, of all the British 
possessions in the Antilles, at the opening of the year 1782, 
but three islands, Antigua, Barbados and Jamaica, re- 
mained to them. 

It was a critical time ; the supremacy of Britain in the 
West-Indies was in danger of being wrested from her, 
through the bravery and activity of the Marquis de Bouille 
and the Count de Grasse. Only by a supreme effort, and 



454 APPENDIX. 

by means of one of the greatest naval battles of the century, 
was her prestige restored, 

The Naval Battle between Rodney and the Count de 
Grasse. — Sir George Rodney, with 12 sail of the line, arrived 
at Barbados, the 19th of February ; Admiral Hood three 
days later, and also three sail of the line from England. 
This made Rodney's fleet to consist of 36 sail of the line, 
with which he cruised to windward of the French islands, 
hoping to intercept an expected convoy from Fi-ance. 

The convoy escaped and arrived safely at Fort Royal, so 
Rodney returned to Gros-Ilet Bay, St. Lucia, to water his 
fleet and refit. 

In Fort Royal Bay, across the channel, in Martinique, 
was the fleet of Count de Grasse, consisting of 34 sail of the 
line, including the magnificent " Yille de Paris," of 110 guns, 
his flag-ship ; two fifty-gun ships and 13 frigates. 

At daybreak on the 8th of April, the French fleet, with a 
large convoy under its protection, sailed out of Fort-Royal, 
with the intention of forming a junction with the Spanish 
fleet at Hispaniola and Cuba. 

The object of their destination and attack was Jamaica, 
and aboard the fleet were 5,500 troops. 

Rodney, on the alert for the enemy, at once sailed in pur- 
suit, and just before nightfall sighted them under the island 
of Dominica. At daylight next morning, the English fleet 
was becalmed under that island, but the morning breeze 
soon enabled the van of the fleet to close with the French 
center. The action was commenced about nine, by Captain 
Burnet in the "Royal Oak," seconded by the "Alfred," 
and the " Montague.". . . Then began, on the morning of the 
ninth of April, that decisive and most sanguinary battle, 
which decided the fate of the French in the Antilles. . . . The 
whole division was soon engaged. The British van brought 
to, that it might not be too far separated from the rest of 
the fleet ; but the French kept under sail, and when they 



APPENDIX. 455 

had passed the foremost of their opponents tacked, in suc- 
cession, and formed again in the rear, continuing this mode 
of attack. Thus eight sail of the British were engaged by 
fifteen of the enemy, until the center were able to come into 
the action. Sir George Rodney, with his seconds, the 
"Namur,"and the "Duke," all ninety -gun ships, obliged de 
Grasse to keep at a greater distance during the remainder 
of the engagement, which continued for nearly two hours 
afterwards. About twelve, de Grasse stood off to windward 
and two of his fleet were obliged to put into Guadeloupe. 
That night the English fleet lay to, to repair damages, and 
the next day both fleets kept turning to windward, in the 
channel between Dominica and Guadeloupe. 

On the eleventh the enemy had weathered the island of 
Guadeloupe, and might have escaped, had not two of the 
disabled ships fallen astern, and de Grasse gallantly 
borne down with his whole fleet to their assistance. This 
rendered a general attack unavoidable, and both fleets were 
kept in close order during the night. . . . About seven 
next morning, the hostile fleets met on opposite tacks. 
Admiral Drake's division led into action ; the English ships 
ranging slowly up and closely under the enemy's lee, so 
that every shot told with terrible effect. About noon, of 
the twelfth, Rodney, in the "Formidable," with the 
"Namur," "Duke," and "Canada," bore directly, with 
all sail, athwart the enemy's line, and broke through it, 
about three ships from the center, where de Grasse com- 
manded, in the " Ville de Paris." Then Rodney, followed 
by the ships astern of his division, wore short around; thus 
doubling upon the enemy, and closing up with^ their center, 
completed the separation of the line, and decided the fort- 
une of the day. At the time Rodney wore, he made the- 
signal for the van to tack, which was immediately done by 
Admiral Drake. The French van bore up, endeavoring to 



456 APPENDIX. 

form their broken line ; but the dismay and disorder of 
their rear was irretrievable. 

The " Ville de Paris," after being much battered, was 
closely engaged by the " Canada," for nearly two hours ; 
but would not strike, until the "Barfieur," Sir Samuel 
Hood, came up ; her she engaged for about a quarter of an 
hour ; and then, at sunset, she surrendered. 

When the " Ville de Paris," struck, there were only three 
unwounded men upon her upper deck, — the Count de Grasse 
was one of the three. . . . 

The French fleet was reported to have had 3,000 men 
killed and wounded. On board the " Ville de Paris," alone 
400 were said to have been killed. Thirty-six chests of 
money were found on board her. This great ship was 
a present from the city of Paris to Louis XV. and 
was supposed to have cost 176,000 pounds sterling ; she was 
"the first first-rate man-of-war ever taken and carried into 
port by any commander of any nation." 

Five sail of the French line were taken, but the most of 
them escaped, owing to the English fleet getting becalmed 
under the lee of Guadeloupe. . . . The English loss amounted 
to 250 killed and 1050 wounded, including Capt. Blair, of 
the " Anson," Lord Eobert Manners, and Capt. Bayne of 
the " Alfred." The whole of the battering-cannon and 
artillery intended for the attack on Jamaica was on board 
the captured ships. Had the Count de Grasse succeeded in 
joining the Spanish fleet, the naval force of the two crowns 
would have amounted to sixty sail of the line upon that 
station. 

Jamaica was saved, the back of the French fleet broken, 
and the prizes taken into the harbor of Fort Royal, Jamaica. 
But the finest of the prizes, including the " Ville de Paris," 
were lost in a terrible gale, in the summer of that year, 
1782. 

The brave De Grasse, who had so ably assisted the Ameri- 



APPENDIX. 457 

cans, and by whose active co-operation, Cornwallis was shut 
up at Yorktown, the year previous, was made captive by 
the English admiral, and the British fleet was at last tri- 
umphant. 

He survived this defeat six years, and died in January, 
1788. 

VI. 

Witchcraft : — In the year 1657, a woman was burned for 
witchcraft who, says the historian Du Tertre, was un- 
doubtedly guilty. "For it was proved that the moment 
she touched children against whom she had a grudge, they 
became languid and died. She sent a sort of caterpillar to 
the houses of those with whom she quarrelled, which de- 
stroyed the best of everything they had, while their neigh- 
bors did not suffer from the pest. She was brought before 
a judge, who put her in irons and examined her for the 
marks which he had heard the devil puts upon his own ; 
but not finding such he delivered her into the hands of a 
surgeon who proceeded to apply the test by water, said to 
be efficacious in Germany, 

' ' They carried her to a river of some depth, near to Carbet, 
where they stripped her, tied her thumbs to her great toes, 
and having fastened a rope to her waist, she was pushed 
into the water and hauled to the deepest part, where she 
floated like a balloon, without their being able to sink her, 
although she herself made several efforts to go to the bottom. 
More than two hundred persons were present at this trial, 
and would have gone away convinced ; but her tormentor 
sent a little boy to swim to her, who, having fastened a 
sewing-needle in her hair, she sank like lead to the bottom, 
where for the space of a good ^ miserere,^ they saw her 
motionless. Yet, when they took her out of the water, they 
were obliged to give her something to quench her thirst. . . . 
These three circumstances : of not being able to sink without 



458 APPENDIX. 

a little bit of iron attached, and of being under water 
without breathing, and without swallowing any water, 
determined the judge to condemn her to death next day. 
But during the night her self -constituted judge, proceeding 
with his plan, burnt her so severely upon the sides and flank, 
that she died the same night, without having confessed the 
crime of which she was accused." 



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